


I Knew Him Well

by UMsArchive



Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UMsArchive/pseuds/UMsArchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec wakes up in an Institute infirmary, where people around find him as odd as he finds them. There is only one person he recognizes, but that person doesn't recognize him - Alec had met him a while ago, he hasn't met Alec yet.<br/>(Time-travelling)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Places and faces

He woke up to the sounds of chattering voices. And none of them were one he could recognise. Not as a friend. Not as an enemy. He tried to remember what had been the last thing he’s been conscious of. A powerful light. Someone’s scream. He vaguely recalled it to be his sister. ‘His sister’. Odd. He could not really connect the concept of sister to a name quite yet. It started with ‘I’. He had to concentrate. It was not possible for him to forget. There were so many faces and names he knew he had to remember. But none came. Just vague relationships and connections. Faceless figures so dear to him. Gone. Or at least hidden. He would not just accept the idea that they may be gone. He would remember. He would remember it all later. Later, when the room would be quieter. Later, when his head would not hurt so much and nausea would not trap him entirely. Later, when he would feel stronger, and fitter. Just a bit later, perhaps. 

“Everybody quiet. He’s waking up,” an authoritarian female voice spoke. And they did. Everyone in the room went quiet.

He wondered for a few moments what have been the signs that gave him away as being awake. It took a while for his vision to adjust to the light and make it known that his eyes have been open for quite a while. Still, the very moment he could see clearly, he doubted he was actually seeing anything at all. 

The people before him seemed to have jumped out of an old epochal movie. The women were four and dressed in long dresses, tight at the waist. Their hair was arranged fancifully and there was something stiff in their posture (at this point he remembered the concept of corset and cringed internally). 

The first, who was in front of everyone else in the room (and was most likely the authority by the vibes surrounding the room, hence the person who has just spoken) was short, with stern features and keen dark eyes. He eyed him questionably, looking like she was waiting for him to say something, or do something, before she knew how she would act. It felt as if she was staring right into his soul and so he decided to move his eyes away instantly.

Right behind her, at her right side, standing closely together, there were other two. They were by the looks of it a bit younger than the first woman, and also more than a bit taller. Both of them were dark brown haired and had bright eyes, though the similarities of their features ended there. They were both quite fit and good looking, but the shorter had quite a long scar running across the whole length of one of her cheeks. He realized he’s been staring and, feeling bad for it, turned his eyes towards the last of them, in the back, a petite figure, about as small as the first, with raven hair and eyes so blue they had violet reflections. She was holding hands with one of the men – the tallest of them.

The men were four as well. Dressed in tight pants and quite ridiculously pompous looking shirts and tight fitting coats. The closest was at the small woman’s in the front left side, redheaded and freckled, with green eyes peering behind his glasses. He reminded him of someone. The tallest was behind the next bed and was looking back at him as if he had personally offended him. He was thin and bony, with high cheek bones that added to his stuck up demeanour. His eyes were green and intent, focused. On the said bed, in front of them, a third man was sitting, his legs crossed. There was something keen and playful in his posture and bright blue eyes. His hair was dark and he ran his hands through it very often. He seemed the most relaxed in a room of worried looking people. 

Leaning just against the door (which was no more than a couple away from the rest of the bunch) was a fourth man, stocky build, body and face. He had the same green eyes as the tall one, but was shorter and had a general more composed way of carrying himself. He seemed very interested about the whole situation, but mostly confused.  
A minute passed in silence, as his eyes travelled all across the room, back and again, but nothing more. And, as it became clear he was not to speak very soon, the woman in the front found it necessary to take the initiative.

“Hello, I am Charlotte Branwell. I am the Consul. Do you know where you are?” she addressed him patiently.

He looked around once more. Many beds. Sanitary look. “An infirmary?” he ventured. He realized just how tired he sounded. And how tired he felt. And he felt awkward, trying to talk while lying down. So, using his hands for support, he tried to straighten himself up. Every muscle, every single inch, hurt like hell, but he clenched his teeth and finally looked at them from a dignifying position.

“Who are you?” the tall man demanded from the back, sounding as if he’s quite lost his patience. He didn’t much look like a man with a lot of patience to begin with.  
“Gabriel, please,” Charlotte spoke again. It didn’t sound that much as a ‘please’, but an order. 

And yet the guy was quite wanting to continue. “He has a Lightwood ring. I want to know why. We are the only Lightwoods alive. Where does he come from? Or where did he find that ring?”

“All in due time, Gabriel,” Charlotte insisted. She seemed to have a great deal of patience. Clearly more than tall guy Gabriel. “Do you remember anything from yesterday?” she turned once again to him.

So yesterday had been whatever had brought him passed out in an infirmary, surrounded by these strangely dressed folks. “Yesterday,” he started. “Not really. All of my memories are very vague right now,” he could do nothing but tell the true. These people wanted answers. But he honestly had mostly questions himself. And in the meantime, his head went on throbbing. He tried to focus. The ring. The one called Gabriel mentioned a ring. He looked down at his hand. He did have a ring. A massive one, with a large L inscribed on the surface. Lightwood. 

“Lightwood. Alec. I’m Alexander Lightwood,” he said it as a great revelation. He realized he may have sounded and looked stupid. But it was quite a victory, from no name and no face to start remembering something at all.

“There is no-,” Gabriel began.

But Charlotte fortunately cut him off again – his inputs were simply unhelpful. “Where are you from, Alexander? Or Alec? I suppose people call you Alec.”

“Alec. I’m from New York,” he replied, glad again to remember yet another sound. One of the women closest to Charlotte – the one without a scar – made a sound. Alec figured it was made at the sound of New York. Perhaps she knew the place. Perhaps she would even remember him. If she were with Shadowhunter (yes, that’s what ALEC was himself, he recalled), and she knew New York, maybe she could help him. He was part of the family leading the Institute there, after all. Even more, the more he looked at the young woman, the more he had the feeling that he’d seen her before. Only her, out of all of that crowd.

“The Institute. I’m from the Institute in New York,” he claimed with a sort of satisfaction once again. But the people in the room eyed each other in confusion and scepticism. But he was quite sure that was it. No, as he thought about it more, he was really sure that was it. And as he looked at them, the bugging question he had from the very beginning he opened his eyes came back to him, “Why- why are you all dressed like this?”

They turned their eyes on him with looks that made him realize just how rude that may have sounded. But it was really a very reasonable question. Shadowhunters don’t set up plays. There was no possible reasons for this group to arrange a dress up of this sort. 

“In fact, we could ask you the same question,” Charlotte spoke once again, picking up some trousers from the end of his bed. We found you dressed up quite… strangely and summarily. We don’t even know what this material is.”

Everyone else in the room seemed quite eager to hear what ‘the strange material of clothing’ was and Alec furrowed his brows, feeling like someone may be playing a prank on him. There were just too many things that broke the boundaries of ridiculous in this whole situation.

“Jeans?” Alec replied as if it should have been something obvious. IT REALLY SHOULD HAVE BEEN SOMETHING OBVIOUS. And yet none in the room quite felt like it. In fact, they seemed even more confused as before, but curious, as if Alec was the first ever person to present them with the revolutionary jeans movement. “They are just jeans,” he repeated, perhaps hoping that they just didn’t hear him well enough the first time around. And yet they continued eyeing him with the same perplexed expression, as if he was the loony one. First things first, he may not remember much of his life just yet and, ok, it took him a little while and a little help from tall guy Gabriel to remember his own name, but at least he had the common sense to recognise a pair of jeans when he saw it.

“What’s jeans?” the blue haired on the bed actually voiced the question that was anyway on everybody’s faces and that was the point at which Alec thought this – whatever this was – was going too far.

“Okay, what the Hell is going on?” he suddenly snapped, fuelled with a sudden rush of energy.

“You are not the one asking the questions here,” Gabriel yet again felt the need to add his input and be utterly useless while doing so.

“Well, at least I’m asking something relevant and not ridiculously wondering what jeans are,” he went on and even though he sounded extremely exasperated on the subject, no one seemed to understand just yet the ridiculousness of the jeans enquiry. Even worse, the redheaded man in a wheelchair seemed to have been pensive for a while now concerning the situation, now holding and examining his trousers quite attentively, and was clearly about to make a new jeans inquiry.

Charlotte stopped whatever he was going to say, though, and Alec felt once again thankful for Charlotte, even though even something SHE said and he now remembered started to bug him. She called herself ‘the Consul’. Alec was quite sure their Consul had a totally different name.

“Moving on,” she said, eyeing the man, all that was needed for her to claim his silence, “I have a somehow odd question to ask you,” Charlotte continued. Odd question was not really moving on from the previous discussion, but he nodded for her to continue. “You say you are a Lightwood living at the New York Institute. When were you born, where and how many years have you lived at the New York Institute?”

This was not that much of an odd question, in the end. In comparison to precedents, not at all. He answered, “Um, I was born in Idris. 1996.” At that point everyone looked already perplexed, even though he has clearly not said anything out of place. He resumed, “I have been living in New York for the most of my life, though,” he resumed.  
“Could you repeat that year?” Charlotte recovered herself immediately, speaking with cautious drive.

“19-96,” Alec repeated slowly. His head still hurt, and now started buzzing. His mind started registering an idea that would make sense out of all this, but that could not possibly make sense in itself. It was all ridiculous.

“Are you speaking truthfully?” Charlotte insisted. That Gabriel puffed in the back as if exclaiming ‘’of course he isn’t’.

“Yes,” Alec replied boldly, in spite of Gabriel, and in spite of the looks he was receiving from everyone in the room. 

“And you would swear on the Mortal Sword to it?” Gabriel added provokingly.

“Yes, absolutely. I will swear on whatever you want me to swear as long as we end up moving on and actually make some sense of this situation,” Alec found himself gradually raising his voice as he spoke. “And I want one of you to swear on your version, too.”

“Heard that? Will, Charlotte, you are in charge. Of the Institute and of the Clave itself. Will you get him the sword to swear on?” he asked, eyeing Charlotte and the man standing on the bed. Apparently, Will. “I will personally swear for our side of the story.”

Charlotte didn’t seem too convinced of her words, but said nonetheless, “I guess we should.”

Will’s eyes suddenly shined with excitement, and he jumped off his bed instantly, a strange reaction to everything that was going on. “Tell them to send Je- um, Brother Zachariah, Charlotte,” he told Charlotte as she was already walking towards the door, from which the stocky man had not so far moved, but was now gentlemanly making way for Charlotte to pass through. 

The name ‘Zachariah’ ringed a bell in Alec’s mind, but he could not make any connection just yet.

Charlotte sighed, “I’m quite sure I don’t even have to mention it, by now, Will. They’ll know who we’re asking for, no matter the task,” and she was out of sight, leaving a quiet, confused room of people, with a very happy looking Will in the middle of it.

Gabriel sighed too. “Will, tell us you didn’t hire this guy for another of your crazy arrangements to see Jem.”

“Okay, Gabriel,” Will straightened himself, taking a mock serious, official pose,” ‘Everyone, I didn’t hire this guy for another of my crazy arrangements to see Jem.’ Although it does seem like a good idea for the future, when better ideas are scarce.”

No one seemed convinced.

“But, seriously, I haven’t seen this man once in my life,” he said again, and this time he looked genuinely serious. Will didn’t even seem the man to suit such a serious façade. But it didn’t last long. It was soon replaced by his previous disposition, as he spoke, “Now, Gabriel, you can try, at least, to be more civil. You are possibly talking about your self-proclaimed great-great-grandson. Or something like that.”

“Will, stop being ridiculous,” Gabriel retorted.

“Yeah, I know, why would he be so keen in calling himself your descendant? Actually, he didn’t quite specify. Perhaps he meant Gideon,” Will said casually, pointing to the man still leaning by the door. 

“Oh, really?” Alec snapped. “Are we really going to do that? Will you all continue acting the ‘being in a different century’ charade? And expect me to believe it?” But as he said, he started to doubt it. Even more, now the name ‘Gideon’ ringed a bell. He was perfectly sure he didn’t know the man with that name. But clearly he knew the name. Maybe he knew another person with that name. Or maybe…

Alexander Gideon Lightwood.

It was his name. That was another dot in a theory he simply didn’t want to and couldn’t consider. This was a joke. A well planned joke. There were even candles placed around and no sign of electricity. Very well planned.

He turned and twisted the ring on his finger. His eyes kept coming back to the tallest girl in the room. She started to notice the exclusive attention. And someone else started to notice it, too.

“The lady is engaged,” will said rather angrily. Angry – yet another thing one would not expect to see in the kind of person Will seemed to be. The lady’s cheeks coloured. It looked like embarrassment for Will, not for her, and there were signs of a clear restraint to reply to that. 

“Oh, I’m no-,” Alec started, but Will interrupted him midsentence.

“Yes, you ARE staring. Now stop it.”

What he meant to say was that he wasn’t looking at her like that. He never looked at any girl like that. That didn’t take him much to remember. He was gay. And very at peace with the idea.

“I think I know you,” Alec told the girl, not taking into consideration the eye rolling Will in the background who seemed ready to respond to that. The girl seemed about to comment something herself when Charlotte came back in the room.

“He’s here,” she said, followed by what seemed like a Silent Brother, carrying a very convincing replica of the Mortal Sword. This entrance caught Will’s entire attention momentarily.

A silent conversation seemed to be going on between him and the Silent Brother, as one expression after another changed without any other explanation on Will’s face, while he stared intently at Zachariah. The outcome – that quite divulged the subject of the conversation – was Will throwing his hands in the air, ejaculating out loud, “Why does everyone think it was MY doing?”

And then Zachariah turned to him. And he was told what was about to happen and his permission was asked to proceed.  
Alec only reached out his hands, thinking he probably looked quite bored. And tired. 

As soon as he took it, he knew it had to be the real sword. Its weight was crushing and he had not been feeling well to begin with, but he stood bravely through it, willing to get to the part where he would have some answers, too. 

He repeated his statement with conviction, resulting in quite believable stupefied looks from everyone in the room. Even Gabriel’s conviction seemed shaken. As he took the sword next, he looked almost grave, as if he was almost wondering if he was the wrong one in this argument. One of them had to be wrong. It was unthinkable that it could be otherwise. 

Only that he didn’t seem to be. Or so the sword concluded. Gabriel spoke his own version with the same conviction Alec had said his own. It had to be true. But it was insane that it should be true. 

Zachariah took back the sword gravely and nothing was said for long minutes. The conclusion that arose from this was unconceivable. And no one dared to say it just yet. Gabriel and also Gideon now were the ones eyeing Alec most intently. Alec supposed they might be brothers or something closely related nonetheless.

“So…,” Will spoke first. “Is it Gabriel or Gideon?” He spoke in a lighter mood than the general one felt. Probably in an attempt to aid the latter.

Alec realized the question was addressed to him. “I don’t know,” he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sounded defeated. This was too much. He tried to look anywhere where he wouldn’t meet eyes staring intently back at him. And he ended up staring at Brother Zachariah, whose eyes were closed and did not bug him. He studied the Silent Brother’s face. There was familiarity, the same he had felt with the young woman.  
Tessa.

“Your name is Tessa,” he turned abruptly to her.

Her eyes widened, but she stood her ground. “You know me? Did you meet me in New York? In the future?”

Alec wrinkled his nose, thinking. He had to remember everything. He simply had to. So he focused on Tessa, to begin with. The memory of her. And when he last saw her. Images flew by.

“I remember you at a wedding. The wedding of someone we both know. Or I knew. And you will know.” He caught his head in his hands. 

He looked back at Zachariah, “You were there, too. But you were not a Silent Brother… anymore, I suppose.”

That seemed to have a great effect – on Will and Tessa especially. Even in Zachariah there was something alert, something more human, even though no apparent change happened on his unreadable face. It was simply in the way he kept himself. And it passed in a flash, just as it came. 

”Jem will be ok someday?” Will accosted Alec, with limitless enthusiasm. His eyes were shining so hopefully, it was almost painful to look at.

“I think so,” and he soon realized how little that was for the hopeful man thrown by his bed.

He thought harder. What did he know about Zachariah? Why wasn’t … or would he not be a Silent Brother anymore. He was sure he didn’t have anything to do with it. But what did he find out from Jace.

Jace.

“Jace,” he repeated out loud. The sound of the name on his own lips gave him a feeling of easiness, a feeling of warmth. His hand involuntarily rose to his shoulder, holding tight. He looked down. Visible for him and for everyone else, he was clutching at a rune. The Parabatai rune.

“You have a parabatai, too,” Will said, almost whispered it. But the room was quiet enough for everyone to hear anyway.

Jace, his parabatai.

Memories accompanied the name. These ones came easily. So easily. As if his own mind couldn’t conceive that whatever accompanied that name wasn’t evidently meant to be a part of Alec. And soon, the one he was looking for resurfaced as well.

“His name is Jace Herondale.”

Alec didn’t expect for Will to be taken aback at that part of the information, but so he looked. Nonetheless, he went on, “And I know HE somehow was involved in it. I mean-. It was an accident, but… yeah, I heard it converted the Brotherhood runes and, uh, something about an older illness, too…”  
At this point, everyone in the room had their eyes and ears on him. He was sure that, if Will would come any closer, he’d be sitting on Alec’s lap. The eagerness in his eyes was almost madness. Tessa watched him with worry, throwing glances at Zachariah, too, now and then. Zachariah did not move or react anyhow from where he was standing, but Alec felt as if he was paying great attention to him as well. 

“Will, you’re-“Tessa started, but she didn’t need to continue in order to catch Will’s attention. He cautiously took a little distance, straightening up, looking a bit more in control of himself, but just as determined to hear what he wanted to hear. And Alec realized the great mistake he had done. Because what Will wanted to hear right then was how. How could Zachariah be healed? And Alec did remember now. But what he remembered rendered him quiet on the subject. He didn’t like the crazed willingness in Will’s demeanour. He was sure now that Will would venture anywhere and actually try to obtain that Heavenly Fire. And he could not allow that. It was immensely dangerous, that much he could remember. It was not something one could control for himself. He was sure Jace barely escaped alive from it all. He was sorry for Will, as he stood, so painfully hopeful, before him. Sorry enough to not let him do something stupid.

“I don’t remember what it was or how it happened,” he lied, and he saw the light fading from Will’s eyes, leaving him with a blank face, but a lingering shadow of it remained. And Alec knew that as long they would be aware Alec remembered things as he went on, Will would press him on it anyway. “Do you have a-?” he started asking, remembering the ‘too’, but he didn’t need to finish for Will to understand and he didn’t need Will to answer in order to find it out. It was quite clear.

“Zachariah is my Parabatai,” Will replied, glancing at the Silent Brother sadly. Of course. Zachariah HAD BEEN Will’s Parabatai. He was sure something like becoming a Silent Brother was enough for a bond to break. Becoming a Silent Brother is supposed to break all earthly bonds, nonetheless. But Alec wasn’t going to be the one to correct him. Nor was anyone else in the room, any time soon.

“So… One of our descendants and a Herondale being Parabatai… The future already sounds strange to me,” Gabriel was unexpectedly the one to come to the aid of both Will and Alec.

“How is your Herondale Parabatai, then, Alexander?” Gideon spoke for the first time. He even abandoned his well kept place in the doorway and came closer. 

“Um, quite dreadful, really. Most of the time, I have to keep him from getting himself killed.”

This seemed to have been found amusing by everyone in the room.

“What was his name, you said?” Will seemed a bit animated once again.

“Jace,” Alec replied, happy for a change of subject, a change to something both him and everyone else were comfortable with. Something more clicked in Alec’s mind. Will Herondale. Will was Herondale. And Alec had heard of him. A century apart. That was strange. He wished he would actually remember the circumstances.

“What kind of name is Jace?” Gabriel inquired.

“It’s shortened. From Jonathan Christopher.”

“I don’t blame him,” The blue eyed girl next to Gabriel spoke this time. “Jonathan is so overused. You’re very great-grandchildren aren’t very good with names, Will.”  
“Well, it’s good to teach children to think and fend for themselves, I suppose that’s the lesson Herondales would be sure to teach their children. It’s a good pick he’s got there, at least. Quite melodic,” Will added.

“We chose that name,” Alec specified.

“Who’s ‘we’?” the woman with the scar next to Tessa asked this time.

“I and my family.”

“Oh, chosen by Lightwoods then,” Gabriel snickered. “A good pick indeed, Will.”

“On second thought, it’s not that melodic,” Will rectified. “Such simplicity. So little creativity.”

“Does that mean your families are close?” the black haired girl questioned again.

“Oh,” Alec realized he had to make an uncomfortable confession once again. “Actually, his parents are dead, so… he’s been living with us since he was ten.”  
Expectedly, everyone flashed sombre expressions in response. No one asked how Jace’s parents died, thankfully. Not surprising. Because it’s not surprising for Shadowhunters to die quite young. Sometimes too young. And sometimes whole families at a time.

“His father and mine were good friends,” Alec added, though it was not quite the truth. Stephen and Robert haven’t really been good friends, that much he was sure of. And to act as if Michael has been the Herondale father, that wouldn’t have been fair. Alec hated to lie. So far, at least, he had been quite truthful. Jace may have not been taken in for the sake of Stephen, but he would not reveal the truth unless truly necessary, which may not be at all.

“So you sort of grew up together then?” Will said, and he instinctively seemed to glance at Zachariah again. It looked as if some circumstances he and Jace and Will and Zachariah had in common. “Who asked to be the other’s parabatai?” Will ventured further.

“Jace did,” Alec said, trying to resurface the facts in his vaguely placed thoughts. “He asked me and I asked him for a day’s time to answer before I said ‘yes’.”  
“Why so?” Will asked.

“I would’ve been quite reluctant, too,” Gabriel commented.

“It’s ok, Gabriel. You’re not good enough to be asked for Parabatai by a Herondale anyway,” Will replied.

“Well,” Alec said, “it was a big decision to make. But Jace really needed someone to be cautious enough for the both of us. I’m like 85% of his impulse control.”  
Again, Will couldn’t keep himself from glancing somewhat fondly in Zachariah’s direction.

“I should be going,” he could clearly hear Zachariah’s voice in his head. And, by the panic on Will’s face and hurt on Tessa’s, he guessed it echoed in everyone else’s head, not only his. “If I’m no longer needed,” he turned to Charlotte, who had been listening from the side for a while, and seemed surprised to remember that Zachariah was supposed to eventually go, too.

“Yes,” she answered, unintentionally glancing at Will as she said it, as if she feared he would be mad at her for it, “Thank you, Je-Brother Zachariah. For now, that is. We might need you later.”

Zachariah bowed curtly in general direction and left, leaving Will a bit sulking. 

“Well,” Charlotte cleared her throat in the silence that followed, I think there’ a lot to discuss with Alec right now. I realized, I have not even introduced everyone. I am Charlotte Branwell. My husband right there is Henry Branwell. You seem to know Tessa. And Will Herondale, her fiancée. Behind him, there are Gabriel Lightwood and his fiancée, Cecily Herondale. And right next to Tessa, that’s Sophie Lightwood. She’s married to Gideon, here. Gideon and Gabriel are brothers.”

“Do you have siblings, Alec?” Gideon asked. A very usual, innocent question. But Alec felt struck. Struck with an abundance of fondness at the sight of two loved faces. And with a wave of pain washing over the previous feeling, as one of the pictures in his mind started to blur and fade away. He could not remember Max’s face so well, just now. Max.

“Yes,” Alec replied a little weakly and swallowed hard. “I have a sister, Isabelle. She’s just a year younger than myself. And Max. He was nine.” The way he had said ‘he was nine’ did any torturous explanation he would’ve had to give, if they asked him. But they didn’t. He had said it in a definitive tone. ‘He was nine’. That’s what he was last. He wouldn’t ever be anything else.

“I’m sorry,” Will was the one to break the sombre silence that followed. 

“It’s been a while…” Alec said in response, avoiding to look at anyone in the room. And it’s not as if the ‘while’ had made it ok, from the memories he could retrieve, but there was nothing else he could think of saying.

“Maybe we should call upon a skilled warlock,” Charlotte offered. “Ragnor Fell is just recently gone out of the country on business, so…”  
“Magnus is very skilled. And he might not have left just yet. We could catch him before he’s on his way to New York,” Tessa offered, too.

Alec’s heartbeat quickened all of a sudden. He was not quite sure why. But as it did appear that any great reaction of his mind and body were connected to memories his mind was trying to place and connect. What mention caused that? Was it the Academy? Was it ‘warlock’ in general? Or was it Ragnor Fell? Or Magnus?  
For the first time in the whole meeting, Henry’s attention seemed to bring him out of the daze that seemed to characterise him. Alec wondered if Henry had even been aware of the whole ‘came from the future’ part. “Magnus Bane? Oh, yes, I like Magnus Bane.”

Magnus Bane. A card flashed before his eyes. A sparkly party invitation. It had the name Magnus Bane on it.

“Well,” Charlotte seemed quite not decided in the matter, but she nodded nonetheless. “Yes, Magnus Bane would do, if we can get him. Will, Tessa, you two know him better. If you-”

“Yes, we’ll go immediately,” Will jumped on his feet. “Tessa?”

Alec felt kind of sick. A strange nausea hit him. In his head, images were floating, but he could not grasp a single one of them. They travelled in and out of his mind too quickly. Too quick to grasp. It was simply frustrating. All he could perceive were the colours. So many colours running in spiral. It was making him dizzy. And he saw a lot of yellow. And a lot of blue. But any feeling it all inspired was overcame by the ill feeling the overwhelming images brought. Before he could understand a thing, images ceased in a sudden moment, and it all turned black. Black and silent.


	2. A familiar face

“From the future?” a familiar voice inquired, sounding not too convinced of the idea.

“He comes from the future?” a surprised voice joined it – Henry Branwell. Yes, quite clear he hadn’t been listening much the first time around. “Oh, I really have to ask him-“

“Later, Henry, “Charlotte scolded him, but with a clear note of fondness. “Yes, we know how strange it all sounds, Mr. Bane, but we had him tested with the Mortal Sword. He does tell the truth about his name and his birth.”

“But would the sword know it to be a lie if the speaker believes it to be true? He might just be out of his minds. Happens in your profession.”

There was a pause. Alec thought, by the breathe intake that proceeded the next part, that Charlotte restrained herself from a remark in defence of their ‘profession’. “I’ve checked. Every marked Shadowhunter gets written in our registry. And I’ve sent the Lightwoods and Will around England and America – as he’s without a doubt either English or American - through the Portal, asking Institutes whether any of the registered Shadowhunters in their region have gone missing recently, and given them Alec’s description. I’ve asked them to check with each and every one of them immediately, just in case. But it wouldn’t seem like it. And there’s nothing that would give away inappropriate behaviour in him that would deem him not sane. He does seem generally exhausted. And, as a result of that he fainted a while earlier. There are also his clothes. Ever seen anything like it before. They don’t seem to fit any class of people.”

“Interesting material pattern in this pants. It seems quite a durable sort, too,” the familiar voice remarked.

“Ah, yes, I’ve been studying them for a while. Nothing like any material I’ve encountered. I can’t quite tell the composition. But once I take them to the laboratory-“

“Henry, you can’t run away with someone’s clothes to make experiments on them, no matter how interesting of a material they’re made of,” Charlotte argued, sounding tired.

“How about a small piece? Do you think he’d notice?”

“A hole in his pants?” the familiar voice asked mockingly. “Depends where you take it from.”

“Please don’t make holes in my pants. I don’t want to have to borrow the sort of tight things you wear,” Alec mumbled, trying to raise the upper side of his body once again. His arms were a dreadful support at the moment. He supposed he didn’t sleep for too long. He didn’t feel any better. He found a glass of water on the stand next to him and a filled pitcher, too. He grabbed the glass hastily, emptied it, then filled another from the pitcher and emptied it again. 

There was silence across the room and he realised it must have been because the other were now studying him and his every move. He looked up at them. There were only him, Henry, Charlotte and the familiar voice now inside the room. His eyes moved fast over Henry and Charlotte, but stayed on ‘familiar voice’. 

‘Familiar voice’ had been addressed as Mr Bane. So this was Magnus Bane. The overwhelming wave of memories were about him. The memories were partly still vague and fuzzy. But he could now see the face from those memories before him. He could connect snapshots to it and to the big lump in his throat. He wanted to know more, to allow those memories to overcome him again and try to master them this time. But he also didn’t want to take his eyes off of the face itself. It felt like if he would do that, he would lose a grasp over something very important.

He realized he was staring. And that the others were studying his stare now. Charlotte seemed confused by it, while Magnus’ expression could not be read that easily. There was a peak of interest, a peak of wonder, of questioning. Henry, at least, was once again preoccupied by Alec’s jeans. Alec was somehow no less concerned by that, either. 

“Hello?” Magnus decided to point out Alec’s awkwardness.

“Um, hi,” Alec replied lamely.

“1996, is what you told these folks about, I hear,” Magnus went on, coming closer. This somehow made Alec feel strangely uncomfortable and he hoped it wouldn’t show on his face. There was a twitch of Magnus’ mouth that made him think it might have.

“That’s… the year I was born. I’m from 2024.” Alec had no doubt it was making him only stranger to the rest, but he couldn’t quite control his eyes. They moved all over Magnus, almost hungrily, noting every detail. He wanted to get closer and he wanted to go as far as possible.

This wasn’t the Magnus that his memories had revived in his mind, he had to remind himself. This was just another person that he didn’t know and that clearly didn’t know Alec in the slightest.

“I suppose I could have a look into his mind,” Magnus proposed nonchalantly. But Alec could see him wondering at being watched. He could see Magnus now growing a personal interest in this matter. HE wanted to know. 

Charlotte did not seem quite unnerved by the way Alec was staring. He could see no reason why that would be so. Charlotte was smart, so much he could tell. The only way that would make sense was if Charlotte already had a set idea n why it was so. Could it be that they have looked inside his mind before he had woken up? Could it be that they already knew everything they needed to know and this was just scene play, to see whether Alec would lie? 

Gabriel came into the room. He shot Magnus a very specific look, as if knowing the reason Magnus would be there, yet still wondering at the reason why Magnus really had to be there. Perhaps quite wondering when he would finally go. And Alec understood. A Shadowhunter of the time, with all of their polite ways in the presence of another Shadowhunter potentially threatening to them, didn’t find it unfit to be passively mean when it came to the presence of a warlock in their Institute. 

Alec felt disappointment, and anger, and embarrassment, for his ancestors, and for his own behaviour, which gave the very impressions of him having the same views as them. He wondered if they looked at Tessa the same way. Not from what he had observed, even though at the time, it hadn’t even crossed his mind this might be a thing. He supposed that the fact that Tessa was half Shadowhunter probably somehow played in her favour. At least among these people that were basically her family. But he still couldn’t help but wonder how the Shadowhunters outside of this Institute saw her.

“I have checked at every Institute on my list, Charlotte,” Gabriel fortunately resumed his own stare, but in a lingering transition that made Alec want to throw himself out the window. “None could relate to our incident.”

Great, now he was called ‘the incident’. 

“Thank you, Gabriel. Gideon had called in halfway through his list, too, with no news on Alexander’s matter, either. Will split the rest with him, to continue. As we discussed, he invited Mr. Bane. Mr Bane had just offered to read Alexan- Alec’s mind, to perhaps give us some clues about his life.”

“I see,” was all Gabriel had to say, retreating in a corner, as if he wanted to have as little to do with this business as possible.

“You may proceed, Mr Bane,” Charlotte invited.

After so long on strongly focusing his mind on this person, he tried his best now to avoid any incoming image of Magnus Bane. He let everything else flow freely. Images of Jace. And Isabelle. The three of them training together. Hunting together. Wandering the modern streets of New York, with all of the wonders that would not fit their long dresses and tight coats. And then Clary. And Simon. Jace and Clary. Izzy and Simon.

Magnus introducing himself for the first time. Magnus throwing him glances every once in a while over the course of their stay. Drinks. Smiles. 'I could lose my family, my career, everything!' Thrown one over the other on Magnus’ couch. 'This is all just a game to you, isn't it?' Kissing. 'What do YOU risk?' Touching. 'I am getting married.' Some hands travelling under shirts. 'This is about tradition, honor.' Some clothes being discarded-  
And Magnus let go instantly. 

Alec was looking at him in horror. Magnus looked back stupefied. But, unlike Alec, he adjusted his expression quickly.

“What could you see, Mr Bane?” Charlotte inquired, and even Gabriel was leaning towards them, curious to hear the results.

“Oh,” Magnus breathed in after a second, “Well, I have not visited New York as of yet. But I doubt it would look anything like that at this point in time. Very tall buildings made of metal and with an abundance of windows. Rigid compact form, nothing ornamental about them. A lot of light at night. Powerful, from many directions and sometimes in different colouring. Clearly technologically created. Strange metallic means of transport. There was also the outside and inside of what seemed like an Institute. Church coloured windows, wide corridors, weapons stacks, wide library. People dressed more in the likes of Mr Alexander Lightwood right here, than our sort. Sometimes very summary, especially women.”

There was a small gasp from Charlotte and an indignation look from Gabriel, but Magnus ignored them and went on with his presentation. Henry seemed to quite miss that part. No doubt, Alec could tell by now, his attention had been caught by the technological mentions. He must already have been planning on questions for details in that matter, rather than listen to the rest. Alec realized that, when Magnus’ details will be exhausted, he’s be the one accosted for more. Henry Branwell looked like the kind of man who’d like to know about just ANYTHING. Alec had never been more horrified in his life than when picturing the trials of trying to explain to a candle user what was the internet.

“There were some recurring persons, if that helps anyhow. Young beautiful woman. Named Isabelle.”

This very obviously ringed a bell, on both Charlotte and Gabriel’s faces. Alec had mentioned his sister, after all.

“Most of times, very summarily dressed, this one,” Magnus commented in between, obvious to Alec that he was suppressing a small smirk. Charlotte looked only taken aback. Gabriel looked as if Magnus had personally challenged him to a one to one combat. Alec had to remind himself he did specify Izzy was his sister, thus also Gabriel’s supposed descendant. 

“This blonde quite good looking lad, Jace, I think was the name – I may be wrong; that would be a strange name – he appeared a lot, too. I’ve also seen this red-headed girl and a young man with glasses, in between. The two appeared both with and without runes. May be Ascended.”

And here Magnus’ input seemed to have come to an end.

“Who are they?” Charlotte asked. 

“The redheaded girl is Clary – Clarissa Fray,” Alec gulped, thinking about the very images Magnus had ended up omitting. “I think her actual name would be Fairchild. She had grown up in the mundane world. Only found out she was a Shadowhunter at eighteen – that’s the reason she received her runes this late. She’s also Jace’s girlfriend. Um, Simon would be the Ascended one. He Ascended only a few years ago. He had been Clary’s best friend since they were children. Now he’s her Parabatai. He’s also Izzy’s boyfriend.”

“What’s ‘girlfriend’ and ‘boyfriend’? Some sort of ‘fiancée’?” Gabriel now asked the important questions, now acting as Izzy’s concerned possible great-something.

“Or some sort of lover?” Magnus added, by Gabriel’s expression, quite unhelpfully.

Alec now found that there were perhaps modern terms worse to explain than the ‘internet’.

“Well,” he began intelligently, all curious eyes on him. “None, really, I suppose.”

Gabriel seemed scandalised at the thought that his female descendant having a lover rather than a respectable fiancée had not been completely debunked. Charlotte seemed quite at a loss. Magnus was rather curious, “Could you expand on that?”

“I guess!” Alec sighed, obviously meaning a ‘though I’d rather not’ by that. But none disagreed. In fact, Magnus seemed rather diverted by Alec’s uneasiness in discussing the subject.

“We’re back!” Will came into the room smiling widely, followed by a rather concerned Gideon. “Nothing at all. No one has a clue,” and he jumped on the bed next to Alec’s once again, sitting with his legs crossed, just like he had been the first time Alec had seen him. Alec supposed his strange happiness in this whole situation was due to the fact that, in the case that Alec said the truth about coming from the future, the story about Zachariah’s cure would also turn out to be the truth. “How is the investigation going here, Magnus?” he asked. Alec was happy to hear Will say that. Will didn’t only treat Magnus as just another usual person in the room, with there being nothing out of ordinary for Magnus to be present, but he also addressed Magnus as the actual person in the room who knew best ‘how the investigation was going’. Magnus was the man who was doing the work there, and Will was not discrediting him by asking any of the others what THEY found out from Magnus.

“Quite well, indeed, Will. We are quite inclined to believe Mr Alexander Lightwood, right here. And right now, he was just making some explanations regarding future jargon.”

Alec observed how Magnus would insist on calling him Mr and remind that he was a Lightwood every time he would address or mention him, and Alec didn’t really know how to take that.

“Is that so?” Will seemed equally confused and curious.

“Oh, yes. In relation to the terms ‘girlfriend’ and ‘boyfriend’ that he had introduced, he was going to explain how relationships work in the future, as distinctively to our time. To fill you in on what was uncovered so far, the previous terms do not fit in the category of ‘lover’, nor as ‘fiancée’, but they describe two people in a romantic relationship in some way. Did I presume that correctly, Mr Lightwood?” Magnus inquired, arching his brow in Alec direction.

“Yes, that would pretty much sum it up.”

“Would you mind to continue?” he pressed the matter further. 

“Well,” Alec started again, not looking at anyone in particular. In fact, not looking at anyone, period. “As far as I’m concerned, the way relationships work in your time is, well, rather by no relationship existing, in most cases.” Everyone seemed quite taken aback by that statement. “Well, I mean, not in the way we would define that. I mean, it’s usually meeting someone, courting them in the most proper of manners and, after a very short period, asking their hand in marriage. And then you’d also ask for the girl’s legal guardian consent, because young women are not allowed to take decisions regarding their own lives. An sometimes guys, too, need to ask for THEIR legal guardian if they are allowed to marry someone, because young men usually don’t have the guts to take decisions regarding their own lives. If all goes well, then the two get married shortly after and live their lives more or less together, as they eventually get to know each other for real and decide they might or don’t really actually like each other, after all.”

All but Magnus, who seemed a bit taken aback but listening, were quite wide eyed by now and seemed to have heard something they hadn’t fully taken into consideration before, or, if they did, they saw nothing out of place about it.

“Well, then how does the future see a… ‘relationship’ going?” Charlotte was the one to break the silence.

Alec sighed again. He wished he’d be explaining the complicated uses of the internet right now. “Well, the future is not quite so concerned about… formality and proper-ness, and whether a girl may have spent a whole two minutes in the present of a boy without being chaperoned. Basically, a relationship starts with ‘dating’. Um, one person asks someone they like on a ‘date’, which is simply going out together to-“

“’Going out together’?” Gabriel narrowed his eyes.

Alec felt an urge to bang his head again the wall behind him. “By ‘going out’ I mean deciding on a time to meet for… an activity of sorts.”

“Activity?” Will asked this time.

“Yes, like going out for dinner, perhaps, or for a drink, or to watch a movie. I don’t know, maybe go to the circus. Just any activity that they would both enjoy and give them the opportunity to discuss freely and get to know each other.”

“What’s a movie?” Magnus ventured.

“Ugh, I’d rather not go into describing that just now. It implies that technological advances that would take-“

The words ‘technological advances seemed to have instantly caught Henry’s attention and Alec had to brutally cut his clearly incoming questions with a repetition of, “I will NOT explain that right now.”

“Well, isn’t that sort of like courting?” Gideon offered.

“Sort of, I suppose. But there’s not so much formality about it. Actually no formality at all. That’s the whole point of it. That the two would actually get to know each other. And if everything goes okay, more dates would follow and reach the stage of being boyfriends or girlfriends. And how that stage works is quite different from a couple to another. Mainly, at that point, it would mean the two are in an official committed relationship with one another. Engagement might follow that, unless there’s a fall out and it ends at that point.”

“What’s even the purpose of boyfriends and girlfriends then?”

“Well, it is so that they could actually have some sort of… preparation through the kind of problems that may arise between them, the way they solve those… in the case that they do solve them. And the chance to really see their partner’s flaws and virtues, and for their partner to see theirs. And understanding what really sharing their lives and decisions with and based around someone else (someone that might have been just a stranger to them, not long before) would actually turn out to be. And help them decide if the result of all that is what they want for the rest of their lives.”

“I find this highly practical and… lacking in the whole part of romance that it’s supposed to be,” Will commented after a while.

“Well, not at all. It’s not lacking in the romance. What I talked about is what’s added to the romance side of it. It’s err, a harsh truth, but if it’s impracticable, the romance would not last long. It’s- What you call practicability is… the realization of what you really need to be given and what you would be willing to give. And, by the end of that, do you still love, and are you still loved?

“Take the love stories you read about as example. Romeo and Juliet. That’s a classic. Tragic love story. One of the greatest of all time. At least that’s what they say. But, if you take the time to think about it from a practical side… Their love story lasted about three days. They just saw each other at a party, fancied each other, and then it all turned into a madness. Juliet was barely fourteen. She was not mature enough to really be able to understand and feel romantic love. Romeo was sort of one of the only young men she even saw that was not family. Romeo had been utterly and absolutely ‘madly in love’ with Rosemary or whatever her name was, like, a couple of hours before he met Juliet. That’s not love. That’s two children playing with fire.”

“You even talk about falling in love as a logical, practicable matter.”

“The actual act of falling in love is almost never practicable or controllable. But it is logical. Sort of. It is, at least, rational.”

“Is there a difference between logical and rational?”

“What I mean when I say rational, it is that it occurs in the brain. Scientifically proved, the heart has nothing to decide in the matters of love, to take out that old school supposition. I am not going to mention, with a lady in the room, what the heart, as an organ, actually plays a part in. Err, I’m not sure gentlemen would understand the process either.” 

Alec really didn’t like the mess he got himself in. Once he started talking about something, he had no filter. He said nothing but exactly what he thought at the moment. He knew that much. He could not even keep track of the things he was blurting out. And he was worried about the meaning of each and every word he was speaking. He wished he would’ve never mentioned anything about boyfriends and girlfriends and relationships. He felt that Magnus was watching him closely. Alec wondered if his future boyfriend listened and wondered what actually the images of him meant in the terms of his and Alec’s possible sort of relationship. His greatest fear was that, by the looks of those only images Magnus had seen, it had appear as a casual hook up. And that Alec’s words did nothing but to condemn it as insignificant to him. As an attraction that had had nothing to do with feelings and that Alec would at all times wish it never to be mentioned again.

“Anyway! I can’t really remember the actual compartment of the brain, but feelings, any sort of feelings, come to life and are further controlled by the brain. Or, more like, they control the brain from within. Which I suppose makes matters even more dangerous than if it was a battle between heart and brain. Not everything that the brain does is logical. Fears are also developed in the brain, for example.”

“What you are saying is, we all function after a system. We are all just machines made of flesh?”

“Well, we are not really some sort of machines that work after a given pattern. And by all studies, it is shown that human beings are the only beings that can actually differentiate and choose between right and wrong. The only ones that can he held responsible for their acts." 

“I didn’t find anything to presume Mr Lightwood here would know me at all. Unless he remembers anything I could not discern,” Magnus came in between. If it had been a challenge, Alec could not discern.

“No!” Alec protested, perhaps to vehemently for his own liking. Clearly too vehemently for Magnus’ liking.

“Then I suppose there’s nothing else I could do to help, other than confirm Mr Lightwood’s apparently legitimate pretensions of the future.”

“Will is the one to take care of the-”

“Oh, no, it’s alright actually,” Magnus replied to what seemed to have been an allusion to his payment, while putting back on a pair of purple velvet gloves. “The snaps of the future were quite…. delightful in their own value. I bet not many people could boast on seeing what I saw.” He eyed Alec meaningfully as he said the last part and picked up his hat, still without breaking eye contact. Every word had been a mix of double meanings mockery, none of which his ancestors seemed to have caught on to. 

And soon he was out of sight. The only person he knew, in a world so alien to his own self. Or at least thought he knew. After all, this Magnus was a man 130 younger, a man who had so much more to see, so many adventures and loves yet to go through before he’d meet Alec. He remembered now it all. He remembered all of the stories he had heard from Magnus in the last years. His loves and heartbreaks. His travels. His friends. Even his actual youth. And he tried to count down the years, place the current Magnus in a context. Make it easier for Alec to understand the kind of person Magnus was right now.


	3. Lack of air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, it's been long since the last update, but as I've started following the books' events and characters, and then been thrown off by the show, I really needed to adjust and think it over. Really, this isn't a lot in terms of an update, but I'm still getting used to the new feel of it.  
> In the end, it will probably go somewhere in between books and show, but we'll see about that.

When he had heard the story from Tessa and Will, Magnus had been greatly incredulous. Dimensional travelling was something he believed in. He’d never done it himself. It was more than a concept rather than a fact. But time travelling… That surpassed any limit of comprehension and possibility. There’s a limit to what those inhabiting this Earth would ever be capable of doing, and time travelling was beyond any earthly creature’s reach. Which did leave the possibility that it had been the work of something – someone – bigger. A power that was out of this world. Angelic. Or demonic. That is, if it turned out to be true. And Magnus was reluctant to believe it. But, in all fairness, he was curious.  
He followed Tessa and Will back, chatting about the possibilities of this. But the two were book lovers. And book lovers are more open to the suggestion of the possible impossible. Maybe a bit too much of that.

The young man claimed to be a Lightwood and Magnus could already picture the aloofness of Gabriel Lightwood into a new, faceless recipient (since he was, supposedly, his descendant). He ventured to ask about the man’s appearance, in order to complete the puzzle. The man was tall, thin, but with a strong built. Did he look anything like his gloomy ancestor? Not really. Will actually still had his hopes up that there was still hope for the new Lightwood. He did have the sort of bony face structure, with high bone cheeks, like Gabriel, but it was somehow of a softer built, not so many blunt edges. Colouring, completely different. Black and autumn-ish – which did made Magnus a little bit more eager to meet him. Not very much – this was still a Lightwood. Tessa would definitely call him handsome. Will agreed, even though didn’t seem very happy to hear it from her. She seemed very amused by it. Magnus thought again how he would quite miss the two when he’d be gone. And he was ready to leave in about a couple weeks from now – at most. He had to. London had no charm for him anymore.  


His name was Alexander. A grand name. The sort of name Shadowhunters would think one of their own deserved. Magnus was not surprised.  
Finally, he’d met him. Definitely handsome. Breathtakingly so. His eyes were currently closed, but he wondered about the shade of his eyes described as ‘autumn-ish’. And soon he found that out, too. They were fantastic. Brilliant and beautiful. Dark and bright. Quite a shame. But Magnus could not find in him the will to be stunned by brilliant beauty at this point, anymore.  


And then he looked into his mind. He was quite caught in the strangeness of the future. He had no doubt that should be the future, with its cold metals and blinding lights. A sterile sort of beauty. And then that memory jumped at him. And he let go, too occupied with acting reserved and undisturbed to let it sink it.  
Alexander seemed mortified by it. Magnus wondered briefly what his ancestors would say if he’d casually give a hint or two. They’d probably not believe him. And Alexander would deny it. No point in that. He gave him a chance to at least admit they were no strangers to each other. Alexander strongly denied that, too. Of course he would. Magnus was not surprised.  


He hurried out, as much as he could hurry without seeming to be on the run. He did not look at Alexander again as he left. Any look seemed to be excessive and giving away too much at that moment. As he walked down the stairs, briefly wondering if he bid Will and Tessa goodbye, he finally replayed the memory in his mind.  


He shouldn’t have been surprised that one that looked the way Alexander did would’ve caught his eye. The pale and dark combination, his obvious imposing height, even his voice, were like magnets. But that he would break the promise that he’d never get involved with a Shadowhunter - that was quite disappointing. Especially since he had felt quite humiliated. To be a Shadowhunter’s catch, the ‘ugh, that guy? Are you serious?’ of a Nephilim, he had promised himself he would never be in that position. He felt irritated by something that technically didn’t even happen and it was stupid.  


A Lightwood.  


A stuck-up Lightwood that refused to admit he’d ever even seen Magnus. To his face.  


For a lovely pair of eyes, Magnus had lost his head at some point in the future and now put himself in a most humiliating position.  


Despicable.  


Damn that. Damn the Lightwoods. Damn Shadowhunters and their good looks.  


He wrote a letter to Woolsey Scott that day, politely beginning with the enumeration of the current events in London, including the out of the future came Shadowhunter, before getting to the actual point of interest of asking him about in the care of whom he should leave the house and its key.

__________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning when he woke up, Alec’s current worst fears became reality – they have given him not only one pair of those tight pants, but also the frilly shirt, too. The very tight coat he was supposed to wear over that didn’t do things better for him. He had no idea what to do with the tie. This was a nightmare.  


He had just finished buttoning his coat and was hopelessly fighting the tie when a bit of material he seemed to have missed before caught his eye. He took one hand off the tie to lift the curious object. A vest. Now, not that he was some expert in elegant wear, but he was rather convinced that was supposed to go under the coat. Great. Just great.  


They told him that if he wanted to go out he’ll also need to wear a high hat, to which he decided he’d never leave the Institute.  
He wanted his jeans back. His sweater. However, when he had woken up that morning, his old clothes were already gone. No doubt, they were in some clandestine chambers with tubes and strange machinery by now (whatever machinery one could find in the late 1800s), dissected to the last bit. Those clothes had been good to him. They didn’t deserve such an end.  


After sleeping most of the previous day, he had spent most of the night before unsuccessfully trying to remember how he would’ve ended up in a whole different century. All he could get in relation to that however was not much more than what he had had from the very beginning. A bright light. Isabelle’s scream. She had said his name. That’s all he could remember.  


When trying to remember that part seemed hopeless, he focused on the second most urgent matter at the time. The role Magnus Bane had played in his life. He wasn’t sure why that would be almost as urgent. But that was how he felt. He felt as though the holes in that story were direct holes in his brain, as if his late existence entirely was somehow closely linked to that bit of information.  


The images were still in a confusing order. He had asked for some paper and – oh goodness that was a quill! He said he needed them to organise his memories and it was the truth. But it was a specific set of memories that bothered him at the time. He could figure as much as the fact that Magnus Bane had been important to him. But what had been the resolution of their relationship, it was yet to be decided. He concentrated and concentrated and had to break out of it when a memory too embarrassing or too intimate appeared.  


A lot of images were him making a fool of himself, or being too rush, or being too blunt, too distant. And there was Magnus, always steady, and graceful, and beautiful. And his heart fluttered and burnt with pain in succession and he just knew, it was big. But if that was the case, why was it so hard for him to remember?  


Charlotte had advised for other sessions of mind reading with the Silent Brothers. Slower and less intricate than a warlock’s, but helpful nonetheless, but Alec has refused. Last time a wave of memories came all at once, he passed out and not even remembered much later, so it wouldn’t help his recovery, only make him dysfunctional and confused. And, if he were to be honest, he wouldn’t want to share these memories with them. There had been something oddly intimate in the act, when Magnus has done it, and he wasn’t sure whether it was Magnus, or the memory flow, but he felt as though it should be restricted to anyone else.  


Right now, as he even wished for those shattering waves to come, they wouldn’t. Trying to remember was exhausting and he could only recover random memories. Frustration was flooding. There had to be a pattern. There had to be a way of making sense of his mind.

It was perhaps fruitless and definitely crazy, but as he wondered about a solution, his mind would come back to Magnus. Not as if he could be an unquestionable solution to his present problem. But there was this gut feeling that made him feel as if Magnus would understand what his mind was about when Alec himself couldn't. As if he was not a bridge to his solution, but a door out of the tiny space he was trapped in. The opportunity to see the entirety of his thoughts and finally be able to actually start and understand them. And it was foolish. Too foolish to think like that. A stranger. A man he could barely place in his timeline. That is not real life. 

And yet he felt like he couldn't breath. Like he was crushed under that great weight. He was fidgeting and couldn't find his place. And despite his earlier thoughts, he was to ask for that hat. If anything else he couldn't get, he would try to get that air to breath, walk and force his heart to do its bidding faster. Pump that blood and the oxygen within. Otherwise, he would suffocate. 

Another flash passed his mind. A bright setting. A large crowd before him. And the lack of air, mimicking the one he felt just now, enveloping him with its authenticity and making the images, the memory in itself much more vivid. Magnus across the hall. Standing tall. Beautiful. Uncertainty clouding Alec's vision.

Alec stood up. 

Air. He needed air.


	4. The woman in pain

He was pretty much sure he was lost by now. He didn’t really think of taking into account the many streets he had passed in mid-hurry. All he had concentrated on was the unevenness of his breath, the uncomfortable tug at his chest, the sensation that an ongoing frisson was upon him. There was an uncomfortable weight upon his head as well, but that he preferred to blame on the hat.

The streets were a strange anthology of splendor and misery. 

Despite his lack of attention, he could remember passing clean bright windows and colored dresses, faces half hidden behind soft parasols, as high hats not unlike his led their way. He hadn’t given much attention to the air itself either, but now it was impossible not to. There was a stench of sewage and smoke filling his nostrils as he descended down a much more muddier path. It didn’t seem to him like he’s been given any special attention before, but now every passerby would pay fugitive glances at the tall man and, despite the glamour, he was perfectly aware that many eyed the most obvious of his runes, running down the whole length of his neck. Some were werewolves, but many were definitely mundanes. He vaguely wondered how much they could know, what stories they had been told and what was it they told further. But there were also Shadowhunters, who either eyed him knowingly or suspiciously, but none said anything, just passed forward.

But the mix was even more noticeable in their appearances. Werewolves in rags as well as well dressed ones, mundanes in rags and also well dressed ones. Shadowhunters, however, were always well dressed. On the whole, some looked like they belonged there and others like they didn’t. But none seemed to be there to stay. Some seemed to be coming, others to be on the go. All of them moving with purpose, not with familiarity. But all seemed to know why they were there. Except-  
A small boy, of about six, maybe, looked quite distraught and alone in the middle of that crowd. He had either never been aware of where he was supposed to go, had forgotten or got lost or got intimidated by his surroundings and froze into place, uncertain. And Alec was surely not the only one to notice him, so outstanding, unsure and stagnant in a resolute moving crowd. 

Some seemed to consider stopping. Others, like they were about to. But none had kind looks about them and Alec could see the boy was getting more petrified by every moment.  


‘’Hello, boy,” not the most trustworthy looking elderly woman touched the boy’s shoulder. There was something horrific about her strange smile on a swelled up, ashy face.  


“He’s with me,” Alec strode to the spot. The old woman looked up at him more pissed than Alec would’ve expected. It couldn’t be more obvious that Alec was lying, no matter how confidently he said it. Everyone there knew the boy wasn’t ‘’with someone’’. But she looked at his imposing self, her gaze tracing the rune arching outside his collar and across the length of his neck and seemed to understand there was no having an argument with him. Alec could feel demonic energies coming from her, now that he was closer. But it was not the time or place and surely he also had no weapons with him. A mistake he would not repeat.  


He had been right to step just in time. She fled, with the same distorted expression on her face. And the other people around suddenly minded their own business as well. Whoever they were, whatever business brought them there, however they were intertwined with the Shadow World, he guessed it had been made obvious that ‘a Shadowhunter took over’ and they’d rather not deal with him. It was a strange sensation, but it was obvious no other could be the case. Back home, in the last few years, after the wars, he’d travelled and met and discussed with so many Downworlders and such associates, learning about them, listening to their perspective, planning with them and just generally talking on equal foot. But it had always been that sensation in the very beginning. The trustless ‘there comes a Shadowhunter’ and it’s been awhile since he himself has been regarded like that.  


He knelt in front of the boy who, if had seemed frightened when the frail old woman approached him, now seemed terrified by Alec’s stern composure, in its whole length. He tried to appear as compassionate as possible - as he did feel. But he knew few people could actually look at him and see it  


“Hey,” he smiled a bit, but it did not change the boy’s demeanor in the least. Also, his eyes travelled, just like many others’ before him, to Alec’s neck.  


“You are a Shadowhunter,” the boy said weakly.  


“Yes, I am, but you don’t have to worry. I won’t hurt you,” Alec reassured him, not sure why it had to be done. He was used to sometimes Downworlders expecting the worst at the sight of Shadowhunters. The boy, however, was obviously a mundane. How come he had the sight was not as important, though, as who else who could’ve told him about Shadowhunters had brought the child there and left him alone. He was quite well dressed, if he were any good at appreciating the meaning of it. But he looked gentlemanly. In a nice coat, with a clean white collar and shiny nice boots.  


The boy did not look convinced, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He bit his lip and looked away, probably feeling lost, not sure what to do next. Alec obviously had to take the lead.  


“Where are your parents? Or whoever-”  


But it seemed like Alec had already touched a sensitive chord. The boy looked at him once, wide-eyed, before turning away again, like he realized he’s made a mistake, his eyes looking watery.  


“What’s your name?” Alec tried to speak as softly as he could.  


“Ju-Julian?” It did sound like a question, but not like he was questioning his own name, but whether it had been right to reveal it.  


“I just want to help you, Julian. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But you did look like you needed help. Just tell me what it is you want help with, if you do. I won’t ask about things you can’t tell, ok?”  
Julian seemed to consider that reassurance and maybe give it a try, to see if Alec will keep his word. “It’s my mother.”  


“What happened to her?”  


“They say she’s… sick now because- like dad. Sent me to wait outside.”  


Alec frowned. “What sort of sickness?”  


But once again Alec had to back out on the pact that he won’t ask Julian more than he is willing to tell. A strident cry of a woman came from somewhere in the building behind him, diverting his attention and gaze to his back. He looked around him, but people walking by remained unconcerned, following their own business. He then looked back at Julian and immediately knew, this would be another unanswered question from him.

_______________________________________________________

Despite his resolution to leave, he had set himself up with a few more jobs. It did him good, he guessed, keeping his mind occupied and his days busy and tiresome, as to not be quite in the mood of visiting any party in a Downworld establishment and risk running into Camille. Which perhaps sounded cowardly, but really he was just cautious. He spent his early nights drinking himself to sleep as another precaution to avoid that. He supposed brewing some sleeping potion would’ve been a healthier option, but alcohol had its other advantages.  


Fair enough, he was starting to feel lonely. He seldom visited a few clubs during the day, but the gatherings were always so boring. Not to mention, men were mostly sluggish and shaggy, in spite of their fine clothing and hair combing. But there’s so much that money can make up for a lifestyle of easy virtue. Not that he was the one to judge. And yet his senses whined vehemently and yearned for something truly good. Perhaps he could check for any upcoming balls in the mundane society for a change.  


He was having these thoughts while currently out through the darker side of London, buying ingredients for a few potions. Nothing big. A few ailments and toners for a mundane ‘doctor’who became quite prestigious through his ‘incredible medicine’. Magnus wondered if the money he paid Magnus were worth the whole game. He guessed the ‘doctor’ had his own nice gain, otherwise it would’ve made no sense. But this arrangement was alright. As long as the ‘doctor’ laid low as not to attract an investigation into the issue and Magnus didn’t have to do with any of the mundanes who bought his potions.  


He was walking out the secluded shop when something in his chest flipped before it all froze back into it’s previous lame cadence as his gaze focused. He sighed in disappointment, but went on staring ahead, where a tall figure was knelt before a child, still needing to bend his back in order to face the young boy.  


Walking out on the street as he was, bored and miserable, he had been immediately caught off guard by the remarkable tall man standing out in an average looking crowd. The very fine figure was obvious even in the awkward position he was seated in at the very moment, the fine jaw, the cherry lips, dark glossy eyes, shadowed by long lashes, under bold, well-defined eyebrow, dark unruly hair peeking from under his hat. Delicate features on a strong body.  


For the briefest moment, his breath hitched, he felt a light in the persisting dark , a spark of interest among all of the boredom, but it all died out within the next second,leaving him emptier than what he had began with, as recognition dawned on him and he realized who it was he was staring at. He sighed again.  


He remembered having been tired, but curious, talking to Tessa and Will in the carriage with his thoughts elsewhere, being described an attractive Lightwood, but his ancestors were and did them no good in his eyes. He had seen this man laid awkwardly under sheets, staring strangely at him and denying as much as their future acquaintance despite the memory he came across and although he was decidedly a pretty man, Magnus may have been quite resolute in not putting much effort to fully register and remember smaller details of him. He also may have broke it too suddenly to preserve from the kiss more than the idea of it, so there hasn’t been much to dwell on.  


But today Alec Lightwood had caught him unprepared and longing to see something bright and beautiful. And there he was, with a gentle expression, a long fingered slim hand laid on top of the small boy’s shoulder. He could foresee how someday such an occurrence, without previous introduction, would have him strolling towards him on his own accord, possibly in the pursuit of laying down his heart. He felt the bitter taste of bile in his heart.  


He had avoided a past love drama for all of this time, only to walk now into what appeared like a future love drama. The irony was simply remarkable. Why did his life appear to be a series of unfortunate complications? It appeared that overly attractive people came with an overly equal share of misery, so perhaps lowering his standards, after all, was the answer to getting a bit more of happiness. But then again, he himself was an overly attractive person, so he guessed he did not escape the rule.  
He really could not judge himself for barging out of this one. Whatever this story would be, he had yet to play any role in it. But then he caught sight of the familiar face of the boy and knew this momentary compromise he had to make.  


Bracing himself, he strolled down there, internally grimacing at his previous thoughts regarding a different stroll towards Alec Lightwood and kept in mind that whatever there was left of his heart would definitely not leave his pocket.  


“Just awoken in a different world a couple days ago and now we’re already wandering through the Downworld black market - those shadowhunting instincts are moving fast now, aren’t they, Mr Lighwood?” he ventured, as Alexander’s gaze moved up in surprise to meet his. Magnus wondered what was with him and brown eyes, as light reflected on and off the once he was currently facing.  


The younger man momentarily broke the gaze to look at the place around him like he had just discovered something different about it. When he seemed to have come to an internal agreement on something, he looked back up, but Magnus was already moving his eyes lower, to the small boy, “Julian Carrey, isn’t it? We briefly met at your house, with Mr Wolsey Scott - do you remember?” he talked to the boy, slowly and gently. He figured ‘what does the shadowhunter want from you’ would have a bad vibe to i, but he’d get there more diplomatically.  


But Julian remained silent, preferring to ignore Magnus’ attempts to appear as a nice gentleman willing to help by looking at the ground, and Magnus’ eyes shot up involuntarily at Alexander, like silently blaming him for it.  


Oddly enough - and perhaps unfortunately - Alexander seemed to understand that unspoken accusation, looking offended. But where there could’ve been tension in that exchange, there was a strange air of playfulness that quite surprised him for the time being.  


That’s when the scream broke it, both their heads raising towards its source.  


“That’s his mother,” Alexander spoke unexpectedly stern. His expression was suddenly steeled, focused. Magnus was suddenly reminded of his warrior nature.  


“Your mother?” the thought finally clicked in his head, resurfacing the image of a rather frail figure and a gentle-looking pretty face, his eyes snapping back to the child, but Julian kept his trained to the ground. He stood up, but Alexander followed his cue, standing taller than him, all graceful length and strong, elegant build. For the first moments, Magnus felt small and unequal in more than the obvious ways. 

___________________________________________________________________________

“That’s it, I’m going in,” he heard himself say confidently, although the lack of any sort of weapons or knowledge of what was behind that door and even… well, the actual social norms regarding breaking random doors on the streets of London with so many people watching.  


“Alexander, what are you doing here?” his very dear ancestor Gabriel himself was jogging in his direction, and this one Shadowhunter was that which the crowd decided to stop ignoring, suddenly dispersing at greater speed, inside houses or up and down the road. Alec supposed it had to do with the fact that he was obviously wearing gear, obviously armed and obviously moving with urgency - someone was about to get in trouble.  


“Oh, great,” he heard Magus muttering under his breath the very thought that crossed his own mind.  


“Are you here about this?” Alec pointed to the door, staring Gabriel down just as the latter was doing to Alec.  


“Well, isn’t it obvious? Why are you standing there, listening, instead of investigating?” Gabriel snapped, stomping towards the door, when Alec caught his collar.  
He didn’t use much force, but he had a firm, steady grasp, enough to impede a skinnier, younger Gabriel. “I did. That’s a woman who got bitten by her werewolf husband and is right now going through the transformation,” he realized he truth just as he spoke it.  


Gabriel goggled his eyes. “Then why are you-?” he launched forward once more, but Alec steadied his grip more.  


“There’s nothing to do but wait it out,” Alec said, gazing up at a rising moon while the sunset was still fresh. “There’s no point in going in. They would probably have her tied down as to not be able to hurt anyone, but she’ll make it through,” he hastily added the last part, remembering Julian was still there, hearing it all, but the boy was just looking up at him in confusion, as if he had already known all that, but was surprised at Alec knowing it, too. Then he looked at Magnus, who also looked questioning, but Alec could not guess more about him this time.  


“This is not a situation to ‘let be’ altogether, whether I have to wait it out or not,” Gabriel commented sharply, although he did not try to advance and high kick the door anymore. “I will question whoever is inside with her. And the woman, too, when this is cleared up. Turning mundanes is illegal.”  


“Well, try not to kill them while you ‘converse’, will you?” he heard Magnus and turned to see him raising his eyebrows in such a characteristic Magnus way that Alec almost cracked a smile before remembering the situation at hand.  


Gabriel didn’t even bother taking Magnus’ input into consideration. “Go back to the Institute. Send Will here. This will probably have need of some official issues being resolved,” he told Alec, why didn’t feel quite in his element, being bossed around by a guy years younger than him.  


His reply didn’t quite help in re-establishing his superiority either, “Right I don’t really know how to get back,” he mumbled, looking sideways, probably avoided a very exasperated look from Gabriel, but not escaping a snort covered with a cough from Magnus.  


“I’ll guide him,” Magnus replied nonetheless, looking just very intent on leaving that place.  


“Thank you,” Alec replied, when Gabriel failed to. Magnus looked oddly at him again, but said nothing.  


Alec looked down at Julian. “I guess maybe you should come with me? You can’t stay here overnight,” he offered.  


“To the Institute?” Gabriel snapped his head back.  


“Where else?” Alec put out his hand, waiting for Julian to take it.  


The boy looked from Gabriel to Alec, probably weighing his choices, and inevitably choosing Alec’s hand.”If you’d lead the way…,” he addressed Magnus.  


“Of course,” Magnus replied after a short pause, still looking weirdly at him, and started to walk.

Alec followed, hand in hand with the little boy, feeling a tinge of familiarity in the situation itself.


	5. The man in ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one might come as a surprise, but, really, the last two were supposed to make up one chapter, I just couldn't initially get myself to write the whole thing.

Alec couldn’t be more sure right now that Magnus walking by his side was an unquestionable part of his daily life. There was an uncomplicated sense of comfort having as source the simple presence of the other man. Alec couldn’t with certainty recall the reason for his anxiety earlier in the day, yet he was certain it would not find its way back as long as he was not alone. As long as this sense of comfort stood with him. As long as its source remained infinite, yet stagnant in time, thought which made Alec realise this didn’t only have to do with a simple walk anymore.

  
They didn’t talk to each other, even though Magnus wasn’t quiet. In fact, he was talking continuously, drawing Julian’s attention from the scene they had left with careful questions and cheery remarks that the boy more or less responded to, although his mind was clearly back at the place they took him from.

  
This, however, gave Alec the chance to look and listen to Magnus without being noticed, or, if he knew Magnus, without the mutual acknowledgement of it. And whether he knew Magnus or not had been a pressing question for him as of late. Sure, he knew that somewhere in the back of his mind, the memories would make sense. Sure, those memories would paint a story. And the story would paint two clashing personalities and a relationship status.

  
But Alec was a rational person. Despite the feelings the present man inspired, he was smart enough to see the blurred lines. They had no relationship status here. No story. No memories. A man with keen eyes and magnetic voice was walking with characteristically fluid moves. Oh, how fluid, and always the charming. In every step and turn and even in his smiles.

  
But that’s all there was. All that was left. Or better said, all that was there to begin with. Before he had become the entirety of the man Alec knew. That was all there was. It was sad and it was comforting. It was sad for obvious reasons. It was comforting for possibilities it ensured. But that was all there was. He did not know this Magnus.

  
And this was the moment he clearly remembered the other one.

  
He was sure he had taken a sudden quick breath, that intake he had heard himself sharply, but his hearing immediately afterwards deteriorated into the muffled reactions of the other two and of faraway cricket sounds. He closed his eyes as his eyeballs spinned, although he was certain the blackout had been coming before the moment his eyelids started lowering. He knew what was happening. It had happened before. The whirlwind of memories, scattered in random succession, ever more confusing than enlightening.  
But this once things were different. This once he saw a first face. He heard a first voice. Images fell into place in harmonious succession. And he understood. And stopped it, feeling relieved. Steadied himself before his feet had the chance to lose their perpendicularity to the ground. He breathed in. There was time.

  
"Now, what was that about?"

  
He turned his face to the side, facing Magnus. His brows were furrowed, questioning and his voice had been just curious. But one of his hands was caught in mid-air and he wondered if his magic would've caught him, had he fallen. Julian seemed to have missed it. He seemed confused, but not shaken.

  
Alec shook his head. "Just my memories. Still messy in some aspects." He thought saying 'when it comes to you' would rather be avoided.

  
"Could you elaborate?" Magnus was too smart of a person to let that slide.

  
"It's nothing," he replied dully. Magnus didn't ask a second time.

  
They were approaching a bridge now. It looked an awful lot like Blackfriars Bridge that he'd seen when-. Oh, it probably was, now that he thought of it. The sun has basically set already, although it retained a slight reddish hue, with very little, but not yet truly dark. None of the others talked anymore. He could hear a few people talking very loudly somewhere further, in a thick dreadful accent, the less polished sort that England had to offer. Otherwise it was quiet. He could slightly hear the Thames bellow them as they stepped on the bridge itself. He looked down at Julian. He looked unfazed and most likely tired. He was so young, after all... He didn't check on Magnus though. It might not have been the case, but he feared, if he would turn his gaze in his direction, he might meet Magnus, which he'd right now rather avoid.

  
So he looked the other way, looking down from the edge of the bridge they were walking on. His eyes narrowed. Right there, where the earth ended and the water began-  
He stopped, taking a better look. But it was getting too dark. He thought he heard the other steps coming to a sudden stop, too, just a little bit further ahead of him, but his mind was working now at a high speed, his head was buzzing, his senses alert. His eyes shifted around and down the length of the bridge. And he jumped.

  
He dropped on the ground expertly, his knees bent, his head low, with a strident swear filling the quiet behind him. He looked up, straightening, recalling where he was and with whom.

  
"Seriously? If you were going to jump off a bridge, couldn't you not make the two of us here, normal, mentally healthy people be on our way first?" he heard Magnus' irritated voice, his body lowering over the rail, although it was too dark to see his expression.

  
"Sorry, it was a momentary thought."

  
"Yeah, jumping off a bridge usually is. Listen, Mr Lightwood, these may have been a couple trying days for you-"

  
"It's not that sort of jumping, ok? And this bridge is not quite hih enough anyway..."

  
"Well, why did you even do it then?"

  
"I needed to, uh- check something," Alec scratched the back of his neck, trying to orientated himself to where he actually saw it when he was up on the bridge. There!

  
"Are you trying to avoid saying you just wanted to go take a piss? We're all men here, we can take it," Magnus replied with a sigh.

"No, for real. I, uh-," he looked back at what he had wanted to inspect, but it was getting rapidly dark. His hands searched his pockets, but they were empty. "Do you happen to have any light source?" he shouted back up at Magnus.

  
"Why, can't find the buttons of your trousers in the dark?"

"I am seriously trying to verify something down here, Magnus!"

  
Magnus scoffed in annoyance. "Fine, but the two of us are taking the stairs, like civilized people would!"

  
That took them a while, Magnus trotting down to where Alec was, Julian's hand in his. Julian didn't seem too impressed by this whole jumping off a bridge situation either. Just sleepier.

  
"Well, now," Magnus raised his eyebrows in exasperation in his casual way the second time today and Alec couldn't keep the smile to himself this time.

  
"This better not turn out to be a 'good joke'," he accentuated the last words, not at all pleased with Alec's amused expression.

  
"No, uh," he scratched the back of his head again, feeling self-conscious as Magnus was staring demandingly at him. "Here," he pointed in what he thought to have been a very vague direction, but Magnus approached that space, with a gentle 'wait, here' to a yawning Julian as he freed his hand. The slow bubbling of the Thames was more easily perceivable here and calming.

  
Magnus conjured a ball of blue flames in his open palm. The sight of the familiar magic gave Alec a sense of comfort almost equal to the present of Magnus himself, but he swallowed hard and focused on the fabrics lying by the edge of the water.

  
"Clothes?" Magnus inquired, narrowing his eyes in their direction. The blue sparks were reflecting in his glamoured dark eyes, making it look like light was dancing over them.  
Alec nodded. "Yeah," he added, realizing Magnus couldn't se him, and looked down as well.

  
Laid in perfect order, as well as of they had been worn by an invisible man were a blue T-shirt, a dark leather jacket over it, a pair of jeans lower bellow and a pair of shoes just bellow that. Alec lifted the top front side of the jeans just a bit and he was not disappointed: a pair of black boxers was right there as well. And something else there, as well as in between the T-shirt's two sides, down the jeans' legs and in the shoes.

  
The water was washing up the collar of the jacket, as well as the top bit of the shirt, so that explained why nothing remained at the top, but otherwise the matter was quite clear.

  
"Clothes like yours, I presume," Magnus noted.

  
"Yes, and also this," he took up one of the shoes, presenting it to Magnus, receiving a questionable look and the raise of an eyebrow.

  
Alec took it back, pouring its content in his open palm. A considerable amount of dust. Or ashes.

  
"A vampire," Magnus tilted his head, his eyebrows tilting just slightly, too.

  
"A vampire in jeans," Alec nodded, looking through their pockets. He felt quite bad about the act in itself, but there was nothing he could do for the man in ashes, after all. He found a wallet in one of them, which was something, but he'd check the contents later. Then he went for the other. His palm touched something hard and one corner of his mouth twitched upwards - no way!

  
He took out the flat object, eyeing it like a miracle. This was real. His life was real. Everything he had almost decided he might've been making up had been validated by this thin steely object and he couldn't stop his mouth from stretching into a real, wide grin.

  
"You jumped off a bridge without an explanation and now you also look maniacal, so can we leave? It doesn't sound like a good idea being with you in a secluded dark place in these circumstances, especially with a child in my care," Magnus called for his attention.

  
"The child is actually in my care, actually," Alec imputed, finally taking his eyes off the phone.

  
"Well, you're not doing a good job with the care," Magnus once again tilted his head, eyeing sideways. Alec turned to find Julian fast asleep, leaning against a boulder.

  
"Ok, our cue to move, I guess," he pursed his lips, quickly gathering and folding the items, tying the jacket into a knapsack and pocketing the phone and wallet in his own trousers. With that hanging on one arm, he lifted Julian with the other, letting the boy's head fall to rest on his shoulder.

  
"We can go now," Alec turned back to Magnus once again, finding him staring back with an intent, yet unreadable expression.

  
"Right," Magnus nodded abruptly, then added, more confidently, "up the stairs, though," as he took the lead.

  
Alec smiled. "Up the stairs," he agreed, and followed. None of them talked, as Julian breathed peacefully in his sleep. Alec side eyed Magnus every now and again, but he was always looking ahead, seemingly pensive. And soon they reached the Institute.

  
"Well-," Magnus gestured, obviously ready to bid his goodbyes.

  
“Magnus,” Alec began tentatively, biting his lip.

  
“Yes, Mr Lightwood?” he perched his head up as if urging Alec to hurry and be done with it.

  
Alec sighed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  
“What about?”

  
“About… what you saw in my mind.”

  
“The peculiar architecture of New York?”

  
“No. About us.” He swallowed. “About the memory with the two of us.”

  
“Ah, Mr Lightwood, I think I have made it clear that I’m not going to be that person – your respectable family won’t find out anything from me about their descendant’s whereabouts. So there’s no need for you to be so worried about it and corner me in dark alleys.”

  
Alec was going to mention how this one was quite nicely lit up, but he bit the inside of his cheek and let it be, following with, “This is not about my family.”

  
“Whatever it is about – this discussion is over.”

  
“Magnus-“

  
“Those images never happened. We both agreed on it, as I recall. I don’t understand the purpose of bringing up the matter again. I told you – I’m not going to say a word about it. Or is it that you don’t trust a warlock’s word?”

  
“I trust you,” he said with what might have been too much assurance.

  
“Then there’s nothing left to say between the two of us,” Magnus huffed, nodding in salute.

  
“I suppose you’re right,” Alec nodded understandingly. He did suppose this was just right. “Have a good night.”

  
"You, too." And he was gone.

  
He entered, finding everyone with Charlotte and Henry's exception (and Gabriel, of course) waiting anxiously in the drawing room.

  
"Where have you be-," Will was the first to sit up, but was quickly quieted by the sight of what he carried, his eyes moving from the load of one arm's to the other's. "I suppose you weren't quite the idle one on your walk."

  
Well, first things first, Alec guessed. "He needs a bed for the night," he gestured to the child.

  
Without missing a beat, Tessa sat up. "I will take him."

  
"I met Gabriel. He said he might need you as an 'official' at the scene. This has to do with his parents," he said in response to Will's continuing questioning look, gesturing to Julian, as Tessa was removing him from his arms into hers.

  
Gideon sat up, too. "Is it that serious?"

  
"Not in that sense. It's a biting case. She's definitely transforming. Husband bit wife," Alec summed it up efficiently. This was his domain.

  
Will nodded. The two exchanged a look. They were both going.

  
"So what? Us girls stay behind?" Cecily asked, petulantly raising an eyebrow.

  
"It's law matters. And we have quite some to catch up on that part," Sophie replied instead. She and Gideon nodded to each other - but this was a silent conversation too personal for Alec to understand.

  
"How bad, really?" he asked the two men.

  
"Not too involved in law yourself, then?" Cecily stood up, crossing her arms.

  
Alec scoffed. Oh, he was quite the proficient there. "I am just not yet familiar with how harsh it applies to these times. In a case of biting, it is really dependent on the circustances, whether the werewolf was aware of what they were doing and such. The domesticity of the case may imply other possibilities. Did the two agree to this? Or was it in fact losing one's temper over a married couple's dispute?" Alec freely ventured - this was really his element.

  
"Oh, ok, so you are quite involved in law, then," Gideon scoffed. Will, too, seemed a bit taken aback.

  
"Quite a bit, yes," Alec nodded. "But as I said, not familiar with the significance of these facts in your time, although I read quite a deal of historical cases. But mostly the ones outstanding tend to be preserved in the open. Exceptional circumstances. Examples of, hm, 'discipline and order'."

  
The two men nodded. Alec hoped Julian's parents won't be that case.

  
"We should get going," Will added, not before inquiring, "and your second burden?"

  
"Um, I think I need Henry for this bit," although he wasn't sure how much Henry could actually do in the case.

  
"He and Charlotte had to portal to Idris earlier, but we could visit them, or call on them to visit later on, I suppose?" Tessa said , still keeping Julian in her arms. They all looked tired.

  
Will placed a chaste kiss on her lips and patted his sister on the head (which didn't quite made her happy), as Gideon also lounged for a kiss on Sophie's cheek and they were on their way.

  
In a strange succession of thoughts, Alec inevitably thought of Magnus.

 

 

 


	6. A twist of time and space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear boy, I've been saying a couple people I'll continue this now that Shadowhunters is also out of hiatus, but it still took me a couple of weeks to get back on board. I also have other WIPs going so I just go writing bits and pieces for updates for one or the other, depending how inspiration goes.   
> Well, I made a few changes in timelines and Alec's memories in relation to Magnus, to fit in show canon. There are still parts that go along book canon, which is mostly all about Tessa's (and others from her timeline) past, barely mentioned in the show at this point.  
> ALSO TO NOTE: I didn't get to edit that out, but I remembered afterwards that Ragnor should become a teacher at the academy more than a decade from this point, so he'd be just living in his house in Idris atm, nothing more.

"Tea?" Ragnor asked politely, although he knew a Shadowhunter's standard answer to such an invitation from a Downworlder. 

"Thank you, no. My husband is waiting in the chaise and -... I'm sorry for calling in this late, Mr. Fell," Charlotte apologized, looking rather uneasy, standing up in the middle of his drawing room, not seemingly eager to sit down, so Ragnor did not offer.

He had been finishing a translation, ready to go upstairs for the night when the unexpected call was made. It was not only the hour, but also the visitor. Ragnor let her in, considering he wasn't only facing the latest of one Shadowhunter family he'd kept a cordial relationship with for generations, but also the current Consul, who any smart warlock should know to stay in respectable terms with, as long as said Consul was worth the respect. Charlotte Branwell was currently the best Shadowhunters could've gotten from many points of view, so Ragnor didn't so much mind doing business with her.

"I just dropped by for a quick but urgent chat on this pressing matter."

Ragnor just nodded in encouragement for Charlotte to pronounce the reasons for her worries. 

"I am not sure if the rumors have yet reached you-," she began and Ragnor only met that statement with confusion. 

He didn't know of any current rumors related to Charlotte or those concerning her floating around lately. Given the high profile of herself and her associates, they were often the protagonists of many news and gossips, especially with the preparations of the upcoming exclusive Shadowhunter-warlock wedding going on, but as for Ragnor, he minded his own business, doing his work and not giving much of a thought about the drama surrounding the Shadow World society. He would've been glad if the wedding would've marked a change, but realistically speaking it has been managed as an exception with the help of the young Counsul and Tessa' s partially Nephilim heritage and he was very wary in regards to the extent of Tessa's acceptance in the overall Shadowhunters society. 

"I see," Charlotte seemed tired and to have had hopes of not having to go through a possibly long story. She finally sat down dejectedly, without an invitation. "Do you know anything about the possibility of time traveling?"

Ragnor frowned, not expecting that, of all things. He sat down himself. "Has your husband turned to study the weaves of time, now that distance has been solved with his portal?" 

"Fortunately, he's not dealing with something that big. But we have evidence that someone did," and she went on to relate the story of the misplaced Lightwood, with the testimonies of the Silent Brothers and Magnus Bane. Typical of his younger friend to get dragged in these sort of situations - but the amusing side of it dropped with the realization he might be unwillingly and unwittingly dragged, too.

"I know some of the oldest and most knowledgeable warlocks there are. But none is capable of manipulating time,” he commented, trying to dodge the methodical interest and curiosity that was tentatively bubbling inside his chest - waiting just for the right kick to want to dive into this mystery. “Distance, yes. Travelling either within this dimension and between them, but time-"

"What are dimensions, then?"

"Hm, imperfect reflections of this world, they can be called - but within the same time frame.”  
"Any other forms of time manipulation aside from your magic?"

"Faeries do manipulate time, but only by slowing it down, not reverting it. No, nothing from this world or in between would be capable of it, no matter what unwise places this man had meddled in. Unless... he meddled with the business of higher powers."

"You mean-"

"Us, half demons and pseudo angels are laughable playthings in the bigger scheme of things, Charlotte. There's no saying what proper angels and demons are truly capable of. Normally, we have been avoiding being in the situation of finding that out, haven't we? But there's no saying the future will be as smart. But let's be optimistic and conclude it has been just this one fool. What was it? A Herondale?" 

"Lightwood."

"None the brighter."

"So, the chance of him being able to go back-"

"He might as well call on whoever brought him here. Which, as I think I made obvious, is something better left undone," he knew to be the right and smart course of action. The world had already been perturbed as it was. The Lightwood man’s simple presence in a place and time he ought not to be in, the knowledge of a possibly perturbed future world in the worst of ways - the very existing order and meanings could be either stomped or transfigured, complicated and distorted. And there was not telling if for the worse or the better.

“Listen, Charlotte. I have one crucial advice in this matter - you take it or not, it’s your decision,” he told her gravely.

Charlotte nodded, leaning in with attention.

Ragnor followed this encouragement with, “Whether you wish to help him or not, bury all evidence. Spread false rumors and circumstances. Keep the truth within your closest - and already involved, anyway - circle.”

Charlotte leaned back in horror, as expected a reaction from someone who preached truth and justice.

Unperturbed, Ragnor continued, “This young man will be a target of interest. Whether veritable or not, it will be presumed that he might know - or at least have hints - on how different schemes turned out, on how they may be prevented from turning out that way. Some may try to change the future - very few for the general good. Have you asked him anything about 21st century’s laws and politics?”

“Um, no, not really,” she rubbed the circles under her eyes, tired and overwhelmed. “I didn’t really get to personally talk in much detail with him.”

Of course, Charlotte’s only failing trait as a leader was the tendency of being kind before being practical. 

“I can contact Magnus Bane, discuss the matter properly within our expertise, draw on more refined conclusions on what he found out. But, you may understand, I can’t promise anything can really be done for him - at most, we might understand the case better." 

Even for that much, Ragnor wasn’t sure of its success. 

\---

As he opened his regular nightly whiskey bottle, Magnus wondered at whatever unlucky conjecture had him ending up postponing his leave from England. Given a better luck and a better sense, he might have been overseas now, hearing about the whole ordeal by - delayed - post. That, if Tessa and Will would stay true to their claims of regarding him as a friend. (Or if Ragnor would leave the house to shoot the breeze now and then). 

But instead he was already diving in close and personal - and curious. Magnus had a weakness for interesting things and interesting people and this story had both. And it was a story already entangled with his life, or at least his future life, coming at a time when all he yearned for was to look forward to his future and hope - the hopeful side turned a bit ironic by this future story's prospects, perhaps. But he wondered if it was all on the surface or he'd find more of himself if he delved deeper. Which would be a dangerous decision. But none of those who knew him well would call him wise. 

He had gotten used to the idea that many a bottles will be drained like this over thoughts of Camille. It had been quite the routine for months now. Yet he had hoped things would take a better turn at some point. But nothing better than the finest whiskey had come his way, unfortunately. And he had tried to look. But no one else had kept his nights busy since Woolsey left - and he might not be coming back till the summer. Magnus wasn't sure he wanted him back anyway. He could be distracted from the past, but it didn't go as smoothly with a flicker from the future. 

 

The flames in the fireplace bursted momentarily, raising higher, next receding, an edge-burned piece of paper drifting outside, before the fire. Magnus catched it in mid-air, recognizing Ragnor’s writing.

“Consul came by with a request of investigation in the time-traveler’s case. I need to hear what you saw and what you make of it.  
Ragnor” 

 

He wondered how much of what he's seen he could actually share with his friend. He knew Ragnor was the wiser and also knew that revealing the implications would sound like a plea for Ragnor to agree he wasn't stupid by getting involved, to which Ragnor would have to make him face the fact that he was a fool, and Magnus would know it is true and not be successful at hiding it (not from Ragnor, at least).

 

\-----

 

Alec was left in an awkward silence with the three young women. And because Sophie and Cecily were yet more unfamiliar to him, he decided to tag along with Tessa, who was carrying Julian to a bedroom, more comfortable in asking her questions about the Shadow World policies in the late 19th century setting. Now that he was finally decided to pull himself together and make a plan, he needed to know with accuracy what exactly he had gotten himself into.

Tessa had seemed momentarily startled by the unexpected accompaniment, making Alec wonder if there might have been considered inadequate for him as a young man to be wandering alone with an engaged (or otherwise, really) young woman. But, although still visibly reticent, she complied in answering him, as far as her own knowledge stretched - possibly attributing Alec’s straightforwardness to 21st century’s quirks. Despite the lowly spoken warning that her insight might be very limited because she herself hasn’t been part of this world for a very long while, it did appear to him Tessa was rather well informed already, taking very seriously her place as future wife of the Institute’s Head.

With comparably little time since the Accords have been put into place, relationships between the Nephilim and Downworlders were on the stiff and rocky side, if not inclining towards resentful and bitter after the events of the last year. 

The Shadowhunters of London have basically wiped off the local vampire clan. Vampires everywhere were claiming the injustice in this having been done with the wrong presumption that they have been aiding Mortmain in his world conquering plans. (She supposed Mortmain’s case details may have been preserved and known, given its seriousness - Alec nodded). Shadowhunters were countering that the cleared misunderstanding did not account for the clearly observed public killing of mundanes, which was against the law, but also had been confirmed as an anarchist act against the Clave - which was seen as worse than law breaking in the Shadowhunter society. 

Shadowhunters were also unforgiving in the case of werewolves’ real involvement in aiding Mortmain. Werewolves were resentful for their race having been involved by Mortmain in the whole situation solely because Shadowhunters’ business with Mortmain, in truth, leading to the multiple tragic cases of those of their kind dying in the miseries of drug addiction. Real penalties, at least, have not been given to the pack as a whole, as decided by the previous Heads of the Institute, Henry and Charlotte Branwell - mainly Charlotte, the actual ‘head’ in itself - given Woolsey Scott’s - their Alpha - claims, that those werewolves have been unattached to the clan, and thus not under his control. Many other Nephilim leaders outside of London did not agree with the liberality of that decision, however, and the easy trust given to a Downworlder leader.

 

The case of Mortmain’s warlock adoptive parents and their work he had continued, and which might have culminated with the end of their kind has rekindled the resentments against warlocks and their magic and how much of a threat they could presumably be. Despite two warlocks - although Alec knew in the future records only Tessa was mentioned - in the actual solving of the impending danger, hidden fear and paranoia got the best of Shadowhunters at all times. Alec knew that, and also knew how their organisation was not as sustainable as the Clave liked to claim. They had mostly survived through the centuries - and barely ever on their own - but liked to give and record the impression of thriving and conquering. 

 

Faeries hadn’t presently even had anything to do with this story, but nonetheless, old resentments were brought forward and pinned against them as well - for the sake of uniformity, perhaps. Tessa was uncharacteristically biting in her speech about how the Clave would probably not admit but most likely found it not entirely acceptable to indulge her presence among them and owing her a somewhat restrained gratitude for her services with the knowledge that she was not a full fledged Shadowhunter. Thus, given the admittance that they could not negate her, the fault had to go somewhere. And it was directed all back to the times of faeries’ illegal acts of substituting Shadowhunter children with mundane ones, making it possible for Tessa’s unmarked mother to have a half-demon child.

 

They came to a stop in front of one of the doors and Alec immediately leaned forward to open the door for her. Since they had ended up eventually walking there together, he now felt like a jerk for still letting her carry Julian. He pursed his lips, quite embarrassed, as he held the door wide open waiting for them to pass through. 

 

The inside looked… oddly personal, for a generic Institute boarding room. A beautifully crafted make-up table was on one side of the room, filled with multiple pastel coloured little bottles, hair brushes and powder boxes. A drawer had been left open and letters and writing materials were sprawled on the inside. There was also an elegant paravan in the far corner, a wide wardrobe, parallel on the other side.

If going by the lady-like aspect and having chosen this room exclusively, Alec might’ve presumed it was her own, weren’t it for other odd aspects of it. The inside of the room was a bit colder than the hall they had left and a thin layer of dust was scattered all over the trinkets on the table. Somewhere in the corner on the wardrobe’s side, there was also a vase full of plants withered and disintegrated all over - at some point, a bouquet of bright colourful flowers, most definitely. The oddest detail, however, was a beautifully built dollhouse next to the bed, although it looked more like something decorative than a plaything.

Leaning down next to the bed, Tessa gently took off Julian’s boots and tucked him in as she whispered in response to Alec’s questioning look, after she, too, spared for the withered flowers a grave look, “The girl who owned this room died a little while ago.” Alec had nothing to say to that, but nodded in acknowledgement. 

When she straightened herself, Tessa went and picked up the vase, too, before heading towards the door. With one last look at Julian’s sleeping form, Alec followed her.

“Alec,” she called for his attention - Alec’s thoughts have been admittedly slipping.

“Yes?”

She took a deep breath. Alec guessed whatever he was going to hear, Tessa was not to happy to be in the position of having to say it. He briefly wondered whether this was going to be a chivalry lesson and he was going to be called out on acting inappropriately - perhaps even impolitely.

 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking that of you, but please refrain from talking about talking anymore about what happened to Jem with Will,” was not quite something he had expected.

 

“I’m sorry if I opened old wounds or- I-I was not thinking of-,” he lamely tried to apologise. He had been all too excited to remember anything at all, bit by bit, and he had paid little attention to what the information he was providing might mean to the people involved.

 

“They’re still quite new, in fact. I care about Jem immensely myself and if there was a way- but - but for Will this is different...”

Alec nodded, “He is - was his Parabatai.” There was no danger now, in acknowledging the truth.

“I understood the hesitance that Will probably rather chose to ignore when you talked about Jem’s cure. I got to the conclusion it is most definitely dangerous, possibly not normally likely to attain altogether. But given the smallest hint, the smallest of chances, Will would look for it. He still will, now, with the hope the very confirmation of something that could help Jem exists. He probably still would’ve, if he didn’t hear it from you. But, just try not to-”  
“I know,” he nodded guiltily, bowing his head. “I’m sorry.” He really was. He knew the lengths to which he himself had gone to for Jace. All of those times Jace had just seemed partly absent… He didn’t even wish to imagine an actual bond rupture - what it could do to him - to them.

 

They reached the drawing room, where the other two women were still busying themselves with tea and books, although none seemed much invested in their books. Tessa sat down next to Sophie and Alec picked up the bundle he had left behind.

 

All the clothes in themselves could do this far was confirm the timeline to which they belonged. He checked the wallet, found a New York’s ID - a fake one, showing an adequate age to suit the photo it presented, of course. He didn’t recognize the face, but then again, he didn’t know all vampires of New York’s clan, but it must have probably been one of them. He still smiled absently at the thought of his beloved city, still, and the relatable expiration date of the document. He went on, finding a couple cards on the same name and even some cash. Then he moved on to the real prize, which he hoped hadn’t really been into the water. It may have been that the vampire had floated through the water for a while, along with all their belongings, during the night, and only ended up to the shore later on, where the sunrise had finished him off and then drained the drenched clothes until the next nightfall, too. (It was a definite thing that the shore had been his - last - dying place, otherwise the clothes wouldn’t have been found lying that uniform way and the ashes would’ve been gone). But he found it hard that a vampire would’ve remained passed out enough for that to happen. The other possibility was that he had appeared right on that spot and in the sunlight, thus leaving the possibility for the device to not have been destroyed. (He wondered what happened to HIS phone. He always carried it with him.)

But the smartphone was turned off and wouldn’t start. It might not have been working or there might have been no battery left. However, in a time with no electricity, the second problem presented itself as serious as the first. Even given the chance of a source for charging, he didn’t have an actual charger. Damn it. He was quite too wary about putting the poor thing into Henry’s hands, still. Altogether, what could he even do with a phone, had it worked, other than satisfy his need of holding onto things connected to his real life, to his home. 

He had no idea what had brought him here, but he needed to remember. He needed to go back home.


	7. Alea iacta est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy, it's hard writing the current chapter when you already know the ending and scenes from that is all your brain is feeding you.

“- and I was there on the first drunken nights after your separation from Camille - it’s part of why I moved out of the city. And I fail to understand why you didn’t take the same route.” Ragnor could hear the stifled whine in his cup of tea at the lecturing, but went on mercilessly, “I thought you were making progress since I didn’t hear of you turning back up at her door like the last time you broke up, but it turns out it was only because you were already moping after someone else.”

 

Magnus snorted in disdain. Ragnor didn’t know anyone who could combine eye rolling and eyebrow quirking in one motion without seeming ridiculous, but then again he didn’t know anyone as dramatic as Magnus Bane either.  “I am not moping after him. I don’t even know him.”

 

“Then what are you moping for?”

 

Magnus slammed his cup of tea on the small table between them, droplets of tea scattered all around it on Ragnor’s brand new mahogany table, but given Magnus’ apparent state of mind, he decided to hold that reproach in. He then sat up with a flourish, walked to Ragnor’s liquor cabinet, served himself and took his place again, crossing his legs.There was a general air of nonchalance in it all, but Ragnor knew better. There was a characteristic fidgeting going on with his free hand, a nervous tic announcing something he’d definitely prefer not to say.

 

“Is - is this just never turning right for me? Everyone just…,” and his pained partial smirk was worse than a cry, “-has something on the side that they’d much rather have than me, given the choice?”

 

Ragnor took a sip from his own tea cup. This was never an easy topic. Magnus was a hopeless romantic, endlessly looking for love.  _ The _ love. The long-lasting. The worthy. As someone very self-sufficient, Ragnor couldn’t truly empathise, but he tried to be in the least compassionate when Magnus ended up inevitably heartbroken, either by giving too little or too much. Mostly too much. Whether Ragnor agreed with the self-administrated causes of it, Magnus was hurting. 

“Magnus, you don’t know if-”

 

“Here’s what I know,” Magnus cut off his attempt of amelioration. “It’s over a century from now. I definitely have some broad thoughts about this man because a refusal of high proportions needs a request of high proportions. He’s all ‘you want me to give up things for you? I have to do what’s right for me’,” Magnus acted out a dramatised version of the lines he seemed to have memorised well, despite hearing them just once. Ragnor wondered how many times those lines had replayed in his mind, how many of those had he hovered over the thoughts he verbalised now.

 

He got up, refilled his glass, then sat back down again. “If I actually went out of my way to ask for… something… from a Shadowhunter, I must’ve been sure there there was- I must’ve been sure,” he trailed off.  

 

“Yeah, but normal people rules don’t apply to Shadowhunter, in no place in time. They will always put the Angel’s duty first.”

 

“How about Edmund Herondale?”

 

“Which Herondale? Not everyone knows the whole bunch, like you.”

 

“Will’s father,” Magnus clarified, with a returning expression that pointed out Ragnor’s exaggeration. “Remember that story? Met. Charmed. Refused to live without her. Just went in there and, when denied, denied them. I will never forget his screams, though - when they stripped him of his marks. I wouldn’t ask of anyone to put themselves through that for me. But he wasn’t asked, either. I guess it’s just realizing that- People just do that? For people? Without being asked?” 

 

“ _ You  _ do a lot of idiotic things for people without being asked-”

 

‘-but no one does it for me’, ‘-although no one does it for you’ remained unsaid but understood between them.

 

“I guess it’s just me,” he raised his eyebrows and shoulders in unison with a vague smile, as he took another mouthful of his drink, the facade of nonchalance thrown on his back gracefully once again, a grandiose cape over rags. 

 

The paradox was that Magnus was self-sufficient himself, in his own way. Magnus was very well aware of the capacity and yet undiscovered possible expansions of his powers. He was also very aware of and very willing to expose his charms and wits, both those natural and cultivated. And he was always telling himself and everyone who listened that he was worthy of all which was great and outstanding, proclaiming it because he was great and outstanding himself. 

 

  Magnus didn’t necessarily try to see and conquer. He didn’t necessarily want to take or receive. He was just a giver with standards. It was a paradox of the gentle humanity that had embraced his demon ancestry - those who granted wishes only in exchange for sacrifices willingly given. He had the powers to bring a nice portion of the world to his beloved’s feet, but he wanted someone worthy of what he had to offer. And Camille was one of those that he had mistakenly projected his own ideal on. But Magnus often mistook people that depended on him with someone that he could depend on. “But when you look at someone through rose colored glasses, all red flags look just like white flags”.

 

“I will pay Aldous* a visit, then - hopefully he still spends this time of the year in York,” Magnus sat up suddenly, downing the remaining of his whiskey, slamming yet another of Ragnor’s drinking recipients on the mahogany table. 

 

“Don’t you dare do anything threatening to your own good to help that man, Magnus.”

 

“Why would I do that?” Magnus asked bitterly.

 

But Ragnor had recognized the dangerous signs. The detached way with which he had tried to paint the young Shadowhunter’s looks and character didn’t fool the older warlock. Tall, fair and handsome. Gentlemanlike and courteous. Seemingly kind, introspective and reserved. Not necessarily Magnus’ type. But the type that was capable of breaking hearts without trying or meaning to.  

 

“Oh, you wouldn’t have it in your mind to do it today, or tomorrow. Maybe not within the month. But if you keep sticking around, if the Shadowhunter warms up to you as it seems inevitable to, you - like the caring idiot you are - would.”

 

Magnus didn’t answer. Ragnor feared he was right. Magnus may have been possibly fearing it, too.

 

\---

 

Alec wouldn’t have thought sleep would have been an option after the eventful night he’s been through, yet a chime in the distance counted up to eight. He sprang up, disoriented, looking around in a curiousness that the previous hardly slept days hadn’t allowed. It was as if his consciousness, as his memories alike, had been just as fuzzified, had existed in the same cloudy blur up until that morning. But right now he had been finally forced to acknowledge, at the fullest of his senses, that all of this was real. At the speed of his previous steady alertness, he recollected, in a spontaneous, vibrant kaleidoscope of images, all of the important moments of his life, except those that had brought him there, lying unconsciously in the streets of a Victorian London. 

But as his real life painted itself more distinctly in the back of his mind, the worse it was to look ahead of him, with the uncertainty of this sort of this personal purgatory he had ended up in. It was a blessing to know what he had to regain and a curse to live with the doubt on whether he might ever own all that had been so hard to gain to begin with. 

Anxiety was filling his lungs. He walked out in gear, not quite knowing where to find it, but supposing an Institute’s configuration to not differ that much from a country to another. From a century to another still… he was not that certain. The training halls have always been his place of contemplation and calmness and perspective. A more violent counterpart of yoga, maybe. But stillness was his anxiety’s worst enemy. He could lose his mind in it. There were times when he almost had.

He heard the very familiar sound of arrows hitting target from across the hall - so familiar in this unknown territory it hurt - and followed it. He walked in and... barely avoided instant death.

"This is a very poor placement for target dummies, " he spoke in a more unfazed manner than he himself would've expected, taking a closer look at the arrow he had just caught that should've gotten his head. Possibly, the foolish, hardly missed and almost imminent death had yet to register.  Or he had really just gotten used to it, in all honesty. A side effect of his profession. 

"How did you catch that?" Gabriel approached from the other far end of the room. He sounded quite upset not to have dug an arrow into Alec's skull.

_ Well, I asked my ex-fiance to teach me, after I failed to kill her in the same way _ , was the truthful answer. And probably the least adequate one in most centuries. 

"Not with incredible effort,  actually.  Just good coordination," he answered instead.  "The head is very mobile, " he tilted his head to the left again to demonstrate,  then raised his opposite hand to its respective side in a grasp, too, "-and it's at the right level to comfortably reach out your hand to. Can be missed by an arrow just like that, given a skilled target."

"Well, chests are even less certain, " Gabriel argued grudgingly, definitely not welcoming a lecture - archery might very well be his own specialty, too, given the stance of offence. Or it might be that he just didn’t like Alec and hearing him talk. One or the other. 

"Yeah, that's why you aim for the neck. Immovable. Troubling height. Lethal," Alec clarified -  a hard learned lesson he himself had received a quite long while ago. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Gabriel snatched back his arrow with irritability. Now that he was up close, Alec could see his disheveled looks, the circles under his eyes and messy hair, his attention all on the frayed ends of his arrow. Alec must’ve been one of the few who have managed to actually sleep that night.

“What happened last night?” Alec asked, eventually. 

“Plenty,” Gabriel summarized, as Alec continued watching him intently - that wasn’t all the intel he was going to get, was it? 

“Consisting of?” he insisted, starting to get somewhat irritated. 

Gabriel looked back at him with something of disdain, “What does it even have to do with you?”

Alec shrugged, trying to keep a mediated air, “I could help. I-”

“The other two mentioned you know some law,” he spoke dryly - he supposed he meant Will and Gideon, “but it’s beyond that, ok? It’s all the more history and interests.”

“It’s always little law and much more history and interests here, Gabriel - welcome to the Shadow World.”

“Current history and interests that you have no idea about,” Gabriel took Alec’s slight condescension and turned it back against him at its full force. 

“I am  _ a bit _ informed about the recent dynamics in the Downworld. And I get it you’re in no good relation with anyone - which is dangerous.”

“They won’t attack us. We have an agreement,” Gabriel responded as if he hoped it better be true - that Downworlders were honorable enough to keep on that agreement. 

“I didn’t think so. But if you ever need help, all you have are enemies - or at least people indifferent about your well-being.”

“We won’t need it.”

“You needed it just recently.”

“We made it.”

“Barely. And barely alone.”

“What does it even matter? Don’t tell me the 21st century is an utopia of unity and Downworlders have become less wild and dangerous.”

“...and Shadowhunters more humble and reasonable? Not really. But concessions have to be on both sides, when concessions are needed.”

“There are barely any concessions to be discussed here. Because werewolves scream cruelty and injustice. But a woman has been attacked and disfigured and Turned. And the law was broken. But werewolves only say Shadowhunters should mind their own business. It’s not even about this case. By the law that they have agreed to, the husband should be found guilty. But there’s a crowd out there, protesting, bringing up anything else but the case at hand. It’s all a madness of shouts and crowding and... And our Institute’s Head is completely unprepared for anything of this proportion.” Gabriel’s speech was disjointed and jumpy, but he got his point across.  

  Alec wondered whether that last remark was a grudging retort towards Will and his premature appointment. Gabriel seemed like the ‘I could do this better’ proud sort of person. But then again, Charlotte had appointed Will as her successor, but Gabriel might also consider she had left the Institute in the care of them all. Yes, this may have been a ‘he is supposed to know how to do this better’, but someone who had a better idea wouldn’t have been frustratingly shooting arrows in solitude.

“Mhm,  _ nothing brings people together than all hating the same person _ ,” Alec sighed. “So perhaps the argument about pinning all Downworlders against you is relevant here.”

“No, it’s not. You can’t just say, let’s overlook you tearing people to shreds for the sake of being friends.”

“Well, that’s not quite what I-”

“I thought I’d find you here,” Cecily walked in, pointedly talking to Gabriel, as she seemed to have noticed Alec second, acknowledging his existence with a polite nod. There were no arrows thrown at her head - Gabriel even lowered his ready arrow and quiver upon her arrival - so Alec guessed Gabriel might like her better.

“Breakfast is ready,” she announced, with a somewhat caring glare at Gabriel. 

“We’ll get dressed and come right away,” Gabriel nodded without complaint and even a bit sheepishly. Alec was starting to get what was going on here.

“Okay, I’ll go ahead, see if Julian is awake, too,” Alec backed out slowly, nodding to Cecily, too, in absence of - or lack of knowledge of - any other appropriate protocol to go.

“Who?” Gabriel snapped back, narrowing his eyes.

“Cecily will explain,” he walked out, not even bothering to look back. 

\---

“Did you talk to the pack leader?” was Alec’s first question upon finding Will and Gideon at the breakfast table too, after bidding everyone ‘good morning’, not really sure if he was meant to.

“Yes,” -  _ I did do something right _ , was there in the subtext and in Will’s frustrated, angry, tired sigh. “He’s out of the country and his next in command doesn’t even want to have an actual conversation, or anything. He was the first out there, with more ones by his side, making a scene. I just gave up on trying to negotiate at all. I called for backup, to take the husband away. I didn’t get to question him yet, nor the wife - she’s still healing.”

The name ‘Woolsey Scott’ did ring a bell for Alec, as his role in the history of werewolves, but also as an indicator regarding Magnus’ life at that point.

“She has a lot of healing to do, too. Her arms, her face, her torso - there was flesh torn apart everywhere,” Gabriel shared the very breakfast appropriate information as he buttered a piece of toast so violently it might have been supposed it had personally offended him. Fortunately, Julian wasn’t there to listen. He was still sleeping when Alec had gone to check on him.

“First conclusions?” Alec once again directed the question at Will, but yet another Lightwood had his breakfast appropriate input.

“It was all too violent, too morbid, even for a domestic fight,” Gideon, too, approached the situation. “And the husband is no new wolf who could’ve just lost control over anything - he had been Turned over 10 years ago, it seems.”

This might’ve been a sign of a serious domestic abuse situation, but there was a lot yet to be known, to mark that as a definite conclusion. 

“Good morning,” a bright voice followed in the silence of clicking cutlery. Alec’s appetite evaporated.

He looked up, as did everyone. Magnus’ gaze lingered very briefly on his probably surprised face, before it was already turned in Will’s direction.

“Magnus!” he exclaimed brightly, all too different from the previous sullen expression. “Thank you,” he talked to the person who seemed to have brought Magnus in then, “you can go.” And so they did. “I’m glad to see you ba- are you hungry? Please sit down,” Will went on. 

“Thank you, Will,” Magnus replied, a bit taken aback at the pleasantries. “But I already breakfasted, and I have some pressing business in York to attend to. But I brought this from Iris,” he handed him a letter. 

“Charlotte,” Will read the envelope. He didn’t seem too enthusiastic about it. It may have been that word of the situation in London has gone beyond already. “Thanks, Magnus,” he said, although he still looked down at the letter, not looking very enthusiastic to open it.

“York, you said?” he turned once again to Magnus, placing the letter face down on the table for now.

“Yes, it’s related to the matter mentioned in the letter, I daresay,” Magnus replied and he side eyed Alec at that. Will seemed somewhat relieved this might after all not be related to the werewolves’ business. Alec wasn’t, really. Silence ensued.. Everyone started eyeing the letter with more of curiosity than dread. 

“Well,” Magnus started, “I am indeed in quite a hurry, so if I may be excused-,” he was already on his way out.

“Magnus,” Alec called out, biting his lip right away at the surprise of everyone, Magnus included. “I think- you do know Woolsey Scott, don’t you?” But there was barely any doubt in Alec’s assumption and he saw Magnus already questioning Alec’s knowledge. 

“Oh, yes, of course, we once visited-,” Will eyed Tessa excitedly, “-but how do you know that, Alec?” he turned to him, seemingly forgetting the question about contacting Woolsey that Alec had expected - Will had a troubling attention span; troubling not for himself only, too. He guessed using Magnus’ first name might’ve raised suspicion in itself in the 19th century.

“I thought you didn’t even know me, Mr. Lightwood,” Magnus, too, caught that hint.

“Oh, I do,” Alec didn’t hesitate as the first time, which he dreaded to remember. “Mr. Magnus Bane here is -  or will be, I guess, the High Warlock of Brooklyn in my time. I failed to piece a lot of thing together back then, due to the troubling state of my memory, but I do know him _quite well_ ,” he emphasized, not knowing himself what he was really trying to accomplish with that.

“Oh, then I do regret not to have had the chance at observing the real depth of our acquaintance during our memory retrieval session,” Magnus retorted smilingly, but it was probably only Alec that was getting the insinuation beneath that. The full of meaning look he gave Alec, too, lasted for no more than a second, however, as he turned back to Will, “Woolsey is in Rome right now and I know his actual address, if there’s a need to contact him through fire. Of course, he prefers it private, so I’ll have to do it myself,” he offered, “Is it about the current werewolf’s case?” 

“Yes,” Will nodded, “his replacement is… hard to get along with,” he summarized the situation with a grimace.

“Well, you can visit me in the evening to get that done. I am portaling, of course, to and back from York, and I should be back by then,” Magnus bowed his head and went out. A brief burning glance was once again thrown at Alec as he walked out. Alec only looked back, not knowing what to make of it, and watched him as he departed. 

A bit more relieved to have had something progressing, Will then opened Charlotte’s letter, all eyes on him. He first read it to himself, and then he read it out loud.

When he was done, all eyes turned on Alec - Charlotte advised the immediate burial of Alec’s identity. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Aldous Nix is an about-2000 years old warlock - so very knowledgeable among warlocks. He appears in The Bane Chronicles (The Rise and Fall of Hotel Dumort [?] - I think it's that title)


	8. Welcome to a Brave New World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am honestly tired with all that's going on in the show rn and what's going in the fandom rn and all these cat fights and jumping and apologizes all mixed up between the production team and the fans. It's ridiculous. Nope. Don't want nothing to do with that. 
> 
> So what's really happening with this story? I guess we'll have to live and see. I'm keeping the things I meant to keep and we'll see where that gets me.

Aldous was a very paranoid warlock. So as easily as Magnus could just walk in Ragnor's house, drape himself over his sofas and start complaining about his life, it was a whole different protocol with Aldous Nix. 

He had fire sent him his personal card the other night from Ragnor's house, waited for an invitation around the time Aldous breakfasted (painfully early), with a very strict interval of time in which he could pay his respects and the warnings about his time not to be wasted. Wasn't it for the additional note involving what the meeting's subject was meant to be, Magnus was sure he would've waited weeks for even an acknowledgement. But Aldous' thirst for knowledge paid off, as well as the desperation in seeking anything at all to excite him out of his slumber after sitting by and seeing the history repeat itself all over through the course of the last millenniums. 

Of course, the house was also surrounded by what felt like a very unnecessary intricate protection spell. Magnus sighed, held his breath and jumped right into it, knowing that any attempt at ameliorating its effects would be noted as ‘suspicious’ by Aldous, given a previous invitation or not. His mind blanked.

He came back to his senses by the time he bumped right into the house’s wall, the door just inches to the right (so close!), feeling lightheaded, but bearing it with an intake of air, before he dazedly knocked and didn’t wait for any other sign to invite himself in. He knew Aldous didn’t keep a butler, so there was so no one to take him in.

He walked right in the direction where he remembered the drawing room to be. It was a vague mix between a drawing room and an unorthodox laboratory, really. It certainly smelled more like the second. 

"Magnus Bane," was Aldous' only greeting, keeping his attention on a rotten smelling brew Magnus didn’t recognize as any potion he’s ever made. "You wrote to me about a time-traveler. Which sounds to me like an outrageous bait." Magnus ignored the impulse of covering his mouth and nose. 

"But you called me here, still," Magnus retaliated, glancing around the room, not sure if he should take a seat and, given the choice, where would even be safe to sit.

"So I better not have done it in vain," Aldous shot him a stern glance, placing a lid over the brew. The smell strangely dissipated with that.

"I hope so, too, Aldous,” Magnus bowed respectfully. “While the fact that the man is coming from different times in the future is clear," Magnus reinforced in response to Aldous' doubting looks, "-it still appears quite hopeless that there may be any more leads to follow - at least as far as our expertise goes."

"Ah, is that so?" Aldous smirked the smug way only someone with his knowledge and experience could afford to. He walked round the room, sitting down and making a gesture inviting Magnus to do the same in the opposite seat.

Magnus hoped that was a confirmation of the safety in doing that. "Well, time twisting is more than warlocks are capable of-," he sat down cautiously, but gracefully. 

"-on their own," Aldous interrupted grimly. 

"No measly demons are capable of it. And those who are able to do it are better not to bargain with."

"Ah," Aldous grimaced distantly, side eyeing his brew. "That's you meek younger boys looking up at your fathers without realizing it." 

Magnus looked up at him darkly, before thinking better of it, meeting an equally dark gaze at the insinuation. Getting himself in check quickly, he subdued and Aldous did, too.

Barely. 

"-but the so-called Greater Demons did nothing admiration or fear worthy,” Aldous went on, unfazed, nonchalantly pouring tea in cups that none have been there before, in between them. “They failed at their first try - back when all this began - and they continued failing ever since. What do they have? Their exile in the company of other failed, tortured souls?"

In the fireplace, where the brew was also boiling, the fire went out all of a sudden and so did every bit of warmth in the room. Just as soon, the temperature grew back up, the fire rose up, but, strangely, Magnus could not hear the potion boiling anymore.

"-there's no worth in calling on them, begging them, that no,” Aldous put down the pot, raising his own cup to his lips. “In cases such as this, just trace their failures."

“Tracing a greater demon’s magic would call for their attention,” Magnus deadpanned.

"But repercussion can be avoided. Bring him to me," Aldous almost hissed with an almost greedy determination. "-and I will tell you exactly how."

***

The reassurement that all this didn’t mean Alec’s case was to be dropped written in Charlotte’s letter didn’t lessen the dryness in Alec’s mouth. However the meaning in the letter had been meant, it did still strengthen the idea that the future was what it had been and the present was what it was. No memory from his real life could any longer be claimed as his. No lesson he learnt had any precedent and everything that doesn’t have a precedent is counted as absurd. He was young in an older age, but it felt like quite the opposite. Realizing all the stories he could tell and all the things he could explain had the tinge of elders missing the good old times... 

 

It was quite futile, being able to see all the faults and the lapses in laws and cases and protocols that he got acquainted with and being put in the position of having to explain his reasoning when the first thing that his mind screamed in response was ‘well, it’s obvious’ or ‘it’s common sense’. The discourse was not one-sided. Alec would, too, receive 19th century ethics with perplexity and see the returning exasperation in the expression ‘I can’t believe this is something that needs any explanation’.

 

He missed his lifestyle. He missed his food. He missed his independence. He missed flaunting his name - and his own self attached to it - proudly - something he went through too many trials to win. The request of choosing a new family name probably felt worse than it honestly really was. But it was in small things like these that all he identified himself as stood and every bit he took out or deteriorated felt like a rusty stab wound. There were many ‘extinct’ family names that he could’ve claimed, but there were none the truer than the rest.

“What’s even the point?” he mumbled, turning the pages of the registry without really paying attention to them.

“So no one could claim you’re not really related to them?” Gabriel replied in that ‘it’s an obvious matter’ manner, not looking up from his apparently very captivating letter.

“Why don’t you just claim I am related to you?” Alec inquired - perhaps he was sounding quite petulant at this point, but he was mentally tired; he didn’t care.

“Our family is better off staying more… under the radar at the moment,” Gideon explained, not unkindly, but definitely making it clear it was all he was going to say on the subject.

“Oh, by the Angel, stop that, I’m trying to think of how to prevent a Downworld revolution in London,” Will nearly whined, rubbing his temples. 

“Did you have the interrogation?” Alec’s interest peaked at the reminder of the troubling case, the irritation against Gabriel thrown instantly in the back of his mind. 

“That’s not something to be discussed in your presence - it doesn’t concern you,” Gabriel managed to pull the irritation by its tail and drag it back into Alec’s focus.

“For one, I have more experience in office than any of you,” Alec blurted out, his condescending ass responding to the call.

“You don’t have experience in this office,” Gabriel retorted. 

“Let’s be honest, none of us have any experience in this office,” Gideon raised up his hands in surrender between them. 

“And if this escalates everyone will be aware of that,” Will pointed out. There was a tinge of desperation in the irritation of his voice. 

Alec kind of wanted to help, kind of wanted nothing to do with any of this. Or any of them. Their worries, their preoccupations, them as people - it shouldn’t concern Alec. He should be concerned about going home. And how to even manage that, when clues on how he even ended up in that place were scarce. 

And he shouldn’t be preoccupied about what Magnus was doing at this time either. He shouldn’t be preoccupied about whether he was doing well, whether he had someone right now. He shouldn’t dread the thought of him being alone. He shouldn’t dread the thought of him loving someone else, either. He should accept the obvious: this was not the father of his children and he had no right to act like he had a claim.

But he couldn’t not be calculating the years. He couldn’t not wonder whether Camille was around. He couldn’t not picture Magnus’ heart being shattered to pieces just as they talked. He couldn’t not wonder whether Magnus was drowning himself in alcohol. He couldn’t not remember the dark place in which Magnus was before he met Camille, during their relationship and after their separation, too. He wished he hadn’t remembered a thing. He wished he didn’t have to bear this anguish, together with the incapacity of actually being able to be of aid to the man he would get to love.

Get yourself together, Alec, he thought to himself, closing his eyes with a sigh.  
“Where did you find me?” he spoke up. The other men looked up at him, definitely surprised about why that information was even relevant. Alec didn’t think it to be helpful himself. But did he really have much to go on altogether?

“Well, I was coming back after a hunt around dawn,” Will answered, looking pensive, momentarily leaving his folders aside. “You were lying somehow downward across the top stairs of Blackfriars Bridge. Your neck was visible and you have this large rune, so I-”

“Blackfriars?” Alec jumped on his feet, wide eyed. 

“What about Blackfriars?” Will narrowed his eyes, looking up at him.

“I also found the other things there,” he started pacing the floor, suddenly hyped with questions. “Well, not there, but down by the water. There might be more. I should go there. I was captivated by that back then… I didn’t even look around-,” Alec was reproaching to himself, more or less verbalizing his thoughts without paying much attention at the others’ presence and reaction.

“Mr. Bane is here,” the maid’s head peeked shyly through a crack of the door.

Alec’s head snapped just in time to momentarily startle an incoming Magnus with the sudden wide-eyed glance. He moved on almost immediately and Alec followed his gaze moving towards Will, who acknowledged him with a smile, sitting up, the folders pushed aside on the sofa. Alec gulped. 

“Magnus, you’re already back,” he spoke brightly. A small pang of jealousy hit Alec. A small one. And not of that sort. But from the simple fact that Will for one could afford that kind of familiarity. And Alec couldn’t.

“Aldous Nix is very short and on the subject and I might as well have that message delivered sooner and be done for the day,” he clarified with a bit of boredom. “While it’s all very nice taking these strolls, I’ve got other business to attend to.”

“Yes, sure, I-,” Will started gathering up his folders in with a fuss.

“You’re supposed to have the interrogation in half an hour, Will,” Gabriel sighed with irritation. “That Mr. Rogers will be here for it, so there’s no postponing - especially if the excuse for your absence is going behind his back to complain about him to the one who left him in charge,” he argued languidly.

“Right, damn,” Will shut his eyes, rubbing his forehead. He groaned, crossing his fingers. “Would it be alright if you just sent him the message then?” he turned back to Magnus, hopeful - almost begging.

“Actually, I was thinking that a proper meeting will suffice more,” Magnus answered with an intake of breath and his characteristic raise of the brow. “Just urging for his return is quite rude, definitely undiplomatic. Given the roots of your problems, it’s probably not the best course of action, that- my thoughts at least,” he opinionated, tugging at his purple velvet gloves. 

“Right,” Will nodded shortly, biting his lower lip, deliberating. 

“I could manage a diplomatic meeting, Will,” Alec volunteered, letting out a long breath. 

“You could?” Will turned to him with a sort of part wonderment, part skepticism, as did the other two. Alec couldn’t believe he was actually grudgingly stepping in to give a hand to receive this kind of response. He chose not to look at Magnus and see him believing Alec to be an incompetent idiot too.

“Yes, I can actually do things - as I also mentioned before,” he breathed out again, grounding his temper. Why was he even bothering to try and do things for these people anyway? Alright, so they were - not very gladly - keeping him there and trying to help him, but it had been said again and again for him to keep his distance from their responsibilities. Had he been that annoying when he was younger? Well, maybe. He wouldn’t vouch for being this stubborn or under-qualified all the same. 

“I guess,” Will seemed to have weighted it better to get at least that pressure off of him. “Is that alright?” he turned to Magnus.

Gabriel scoffed, but let it be. He probably wouldn’t have liked this job dropped on himself either. Better said, if someone were to fuck this up - as a meeting like this in the Downworld could go - it might as well be playing-great-adult-Alec.

Magnus eyed Alec, seemingly debating. “I suppose. I’d much rather get it off my hands sooner, too,” he answered noncommittally with a swift raise of his shoulders.

“I can also get a second look at Blackfriars again,” Alec added, keeping his priorities in check.

“Oh, are you sure you won’t get lost on your way back again this time around, Mr. Lightwood?” Magnus asked cheekily. 

Gabriel escaped a short snort on the side. Alec side shot him a look. This is not the kind of matter he’d have them agree on.

“I’ll just pay attention to the go trip this time around,” Alec replied with upwards pursed lips. If he were to sort himself straight for a professional meeting, a bit less nagging from those around him would’ve helped. “So if we could just leave-”

“Your hat,” Gabriel pointed out dully, as if he was admonishing a child’s overlook.

“I hate it,” Alec probably could’ve chosen a better answer that hadn’t made him sound like an actual child. 

“It’s not proper, going out without a hat.” There was once again the I-can’t-believe-this-doesn’t-go-without-saying tone in Gabriel’s voice that Alec was already so fed up with.

“Fine, it’s whatever,” Alec sighed. He was justifiably boiling on the inside, on one side, but grudgingly disagreeing at his own role in increasing the tension.

***  
He loudly - and perhaps a bit dramatically - took a wide intake of breath as soon as they were out in the late winter air. The London air wasn’t quite the clear, thick bit of refreshment one would appreciate, but it was something.

“Why this interest in a taxing job in the Downworld?” Magnus inquired soon enough. He mused at the familiarity and oddness of this. It was relaxing and it was awkward, being in Magnus’ company, talking to him. But Alec couldn’t afford an open conversation. He couldn’t ignore the weight of their actual only present history, encompassed by the only bit of future Magnus was aware they shared.

He took the liberty of taking his full appearance in. The longer hair gathered in a low ponytail, the orange suit, the purple gloves, overcoat and hat. The jewels glistening even in this cold sun. Always colorful and beautiful, standing out. 

If Magnus noticed the stare, he didn’t mention it.

“Just getting frustrated about this matter getting pushed around and nowhere. There’s a lot of bumping heads in there.” 

“Including yours, from what I saw today, I presume?” Magnus rather alluded than questioned, perhaps mildly diverted. 

Alec couldn’t really deny it. He even smiled a bit, even if quite bitterly, “Admittedly,” was all he could really put into words. Were this the Magnus he knew - the Magnus that knew him - he would’ve put all of his frustration into words, he would’ve leaned in and taken all of the advice and the encouragement that Magnus would always have had ready for him. But that was not something he was entitled to now. This man couldn’t be bombarded with Alec’s - a stranger’s - whining about his life. He had his daily own life. One he also wouldn’t himself confess about to Alec. One Alec couldn’t himself take a bit off his shoulders and return encouragements to. The dread of not being able to do the second was greater than the latter’s.

“Do you even have that experience in these matters, or is it just a brave act or boredom?” Magnus himself was not condescending or skeptic about the idea. Perhaps, though, he was also just being conversational and that was it.

“I do,” Alec nodded, his posture stiff. This was much too uncomfortable, in a way, wishing he could talk freely, but fearing of being too forward without being warranted to. “It was mainly my job, in New York,” he added, guessing there was nothing dangerous in admitting that much.

“Negotiating into minimizing the damage and quieting the masses for your kind?” He didn’t sound insinuating or accusatory, just curious. 

Alec frowned. “Sounds very one-sided when you put it that way. The actual target would be mediation, I guess.”

Magnus smirked. “Just putting it under a different name, or is there also a different description?”

Alec paused, pondering over it. “I guess I am talking about the very literal definition of it.”

“That would place you as a third party?” Magnus ventured. 

“Am I not?” Alec breathed out. How was he not a third party in all this? 

“So this has nothing to do with you?” Magnus looked right into his eyes when he asked this. Maybe Alec was imagining it, maybe he was leaving his own thoughts reflect on those words, but they seemed to have a much wider meaning. “If this was happening in New York right now, would you still be a third party?”

“I’d still expect of myself to act as such,” Alec answered boldly. 

Magnus looked back at him through narrowed eyes, seemingly drawing his conclusion from that statement. But Alec wouldn’t expand on that. It was not the time or the place for going into a rant. It was not a time and place to place it within the context of his convictions. Not here and now. Never here and now.

He saw the bridge, his mind engrossed right away and fully by his - personally - most pressing problem at hand. “Do you mind if we stop by to my detour first thing? It’d be great to catch some daylight this time around,” he asked, not really taking his eyes off his target. 

He heard Magnus sigh next to him and turned in time to see his wide-eyed expression of impatience, “Well, this better not be long, Shadowhunter.”

They walked on and took wide strides to the side that interested him in particular. When he was close enough to assure himself a landing on the shore’s side he lifted himself up on the border. 

“Seriously, even in daylight?” he heard once again the same shock and exasperation from the previous night from behind him. 

“Well, I am glamoured,” he explained simply.

“So double the carelessness, if I know anything about Nephilim expressions,” Magnus commented. 

Alec turned around, adjusting from his jumping position to sit down on the border’s width, facing Magnus. The combined familiarity and strangeness hits again, even more when there’s something he thinks he recognizes in Magnus’ expression, but he can’t yet quite put his finger on. Something’s escaping his memory, not necessarily through the amnesia, but a thoughtless general omission. 

He sits up, still, resolved. “Ok, let’s take the stairs,” he agrees simply, pausing in his walk to look back and wait for Magnus to follow. He has the instinct of reaching out his arm for Magnus to take, but stops the movement in time, turning it into a simple polite gesture of encouragement to go on moving.

He let’s the thought of it aside for now, as he steps down the stairs first, still painfully aware of Magnus’ steps close behind him.

Arrived at the scene, he’s a bit troubled, not sure about how wide of an area he should focus on, aware of Magnus’ accompaniment and attention and wishing he could be here alone and with all the time in the world. He just starts by aimlessly pacing the area, not sure what he would be looking for, but definitely not detecting any such other bundle of clothes like the former. Other steps or traces might just belong to anyone. But he could at most take a long careful look across all possible surfaces, of water, dirt and bridge. He did have the comparably best eyesight in the squad, in the least. He could hear Simon’s ‘What do your Elf eyes see, Legolas?’ directed at him whenever they were in such a situation. It may had taken a while for Alec to get onto the joke, admittedly. 

“I have no idea what you are looking for, but I still don’t think it’s here,” Magnus eventually spoke up, by the time Alec moved on to scanning the surfaces under the bridge.

“No stone unturned,” Alec retaliated, but he was none the hopeful himself.

He narrowed his eyes at a white fragment against the dark stone. Piece of paper. Odd placement. Not humanly reachable. Not unlikely to be wind driven and dampness glued. He bent his knees, calculating the distance. He was jumping up by the time Magnus said, “That again,” and he was down shortly after, holding the piece of paper. 

He looked down and smiled at the scribbling. 

Magnus looked down at it, unimpressed. “A child’s drawing? Fascinating. Is that enough evidence for your case to go?”

But Alec still smiled, “Oh, I’m sure this was drawn by an adult,” he said, wrapping the paper, putting it into his pocket.

Magnus was still confused. “So drawn by you?”

“No.”

“Someone you know?”

“Possibly.”

“I don’t even care,” Magnus sighed at the undoubtedly frustrating exchange. “So if that was all we were here for-”

“Yes, we should go,” Alec nodded. This had to wait for now.


	9. Beloved and bereaved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Easter, so I guess we could say it almost took Jesus to die for this update to happen. I've been saying it to some people before, but no, this isn't abandoned, but aside from this story having always been troubling to me, I'm having a terrible writer's block and I've been writing a few hundred words every now and then for not only this story, but all of my stories altogether.
> 
> Here's Magnus' POV (mostly), now. Sorry for the hectic schedule, but I'm writing the way and when I can.

Magnus prided himself as someone who could turn the dullest subject into a vibrant conversation.  Given an unpleasant talking partner,  he'd resort to irony,  but altogether the talking would still be cheerful on his side. But doing either seemed somehow inappropriate in Alec's presence. 

 

Firstly, there was the problematic knowledge of virtually knowing him while he actually didn't.  Right there, in the very depth of that issue,  also stood the nagging of unknown expectations.  Not that Magnus would ever admit, but the awareness that Alec already had a close impression of Magnus, that it might be obvious if he tried to distort it, made him feel vulnerable. Magnus preferred to have the upper hand. He preferred to be in control of how much people knew about him. But he had no control over how much information Alec had and could not even hold a grudge against him for his own feelings of being exposed - Magnus had supplied him that power, although he had no memory of it. When he had looked at Magnus, intense, pondering, before he had just resumed silently to taking the stairs with him, Magnus had been sure - Alexander knew something. Or knew enough of him to guess something. Either possibility was frightening on its own.  

 

Lastly, there was no uneasiness in the predominant silence, somehow.  Silence was not Magnus' comfort zone. It was more often than not a sign of words unspoken,  either on his part or the other.  But it seemed to come most natural for Alec. Alec seemed to find nothing abnormal in Magnus' silences either. And it did make him wonder, as it often did these past days, since Alec had dropped seemingly out of the sky and into Magnus' space and time. Aside from lust, what else have the two had together? He could've easily dodged that riddle by assuming nothing more than it showed on the surface.  But a matter that called into question still remained: why had Magnus asked for more? Why had he believed there had been a chance to get more? 

 

Another problem was that he couldn't really fully understand Alec. The man seemed open enough in gestures and words,  and yet Magnus couldn't quite paint a full picture of his character.  Because from one action and dialogue to the next, Alexander  surprised him with something new that he'd catch himself musing on later. 

 

The moment they had met, he had thought the story was quite clear and Alexander himself was quite transparent himself. A young Shadowhunter who in a moment of recklessness had had a fling with a (male) Downworlder and who was embarrassed to remember his youth's folly now that he was a proper married man (Magnus in the least presumed that marriage to have already taken place - Alexander had appeared somewhat younger and softer faced in the memories). And then he was put face to face with that one warlock in front of his reputable ancestors - awkward, to say the least. And Magnus had clicked his tongue and shook his head and walked out with a sour taste but little regard for its source. 

 

The next day, on one of the dreariest roads of London, towards the end of a boring day, Magnus faced the reality of Alec not being that generic face and figure within a generic story. (And, like that, he had been easy to ignore before). But he had his own peculiar face expressions and voice inflections and a wide range of constant hand gestures. He was neutral, then suddenly unpredictable. He scorched and smoked so much, you were always surprised by the sudden blaze. He looked so sobered up, his smile always dug into his cheeks with a spark. He looked so stern, you couldn't not be endeared by the minute installment of kindness and gentleness as he knelt in front of a scared little boy or as he cradled his sleeping body in his arms. The professional, detached outlook, breaking off through  something silly or even funny that he said. He wasn’t a charmer, but he caught the eye. He was both confident and hesitant, both persuasive and emphatic. 

 

But beyond the comfort, there was dread in his gut, setting down there as soon as they left the bridge. He knew too well what Ragnor had been talking about. He was indeed an idiot. He could easily get to care for someone like Alec - in whatever way he would, it was always a dangerous move. Magnus knew very well there were attachments that soothe one and those that dig into your skin, whether it’s the other person’s fault, or yours, or both, or none. All depending purely on circumstances. For a warlock, an immortal being, a hopeless romantic and a hopeless skeptic, someone all secretive until he crossed the line and overshared, it tended to go all the wrong ways.

 

And Alec was a Shadowhunter. And it was easier to tell when there was someone like Magnus himself, like Will was, when it was all too transparent, the moment the guard was down. But Alec, he couldn’t understand that easily. His guards were never fully up, never fully down. It was covered in cracks, never to be expected on which side of him the crack will be at a certain time. It wasn’t like Alec was unknowable - on the contrary. But he seemed like the kind of person you needed to put in the extra effort to really understand. And counting it worth of and willing to add that effort was one step away from doom.

 

Their interactions were strange in their own. Alec treated him like a stranger he used to know. And it made sense, he guessed. But ‘sense’ was a foolish consideration in this matter. 

 

“Why did we even have to come all this way?” Alec questioned in the end, not complaining, but rather confused.

 

Magnus delayed his reply as he ignited a fire across the bed of coals. “Well, the convenience of the meeting idea didn’t strike me until earlier and I wouldn’t trouble my friend by connecting his personal address with the Institute’s fireplace,” he didn’t hesitate in being truthful, whether or not a Shadowhunter would take that kind of confession as disrespectful, but Alec didn’t seem to, only nodding vaguely at the confession.

 

He scribbled a message on his card about their upcoming visit and threw it in the fire, side-eying Alec’s contemplative gaze. It was a professional look, that was as much as he could read on. And Magnus guessed at that point, Alec was really taking this mission seriously, whether he did care about the mere businesses dying long before he was even born or not. 

 

A response came from Woolsey rather quickly, and so nothing impeded them from pursuing the invitation. But a new, previously ignored before awareness came to him, that he might not end up particularly pleased about  Alec’s diplomatic persona. 

  
  
  


Shadowhunters always looked at Downworlders as some who needed their protection, their guidance or their justice. Always looked down upon, in some way or other. Always the nuisance or the inferior or the the troublemaker. Magnus had only witnessed Alec in the presence of a Downworlder past lover, a Downworlder’s child - he was suddenly tense and worried about how he did in fact regard Downworlders as a whole, when he acted as a Shadowhunter at work.

 

“Used to portals?” he asked as a matter of fact, his hands already at work. Third portal today, and he’d need another to return, too - guess he’d never learn how to play it safe with his health.

 

“Very,” Alec nodded, and Magnus wished his mind would stop speculating about every single thing Alec said - like this one.

 

Alec, true to his words, looked unfazed by the way portal traveling can make you feel like your stomach had been misplaced before being dumped forcefully back again, walking through and out, if not gracefully, definitely upright and sharp.

 

They walked right into Woolsey’s study, out of Magnus’ familiarity. Only when he saw Woolsey vaguely startled at the direct, immediate call, it occurred to him this visit would be associated to the kind of business that uses the front door. He looked at Alec, examining how he accommodated to the situation and in time to acknowledge Alec’s eyes shifting around with vivacity for those mere moments, all it seemed to be needed to note it all down , his eyes lingering and narrowing at the documents his friend seemed to have been just writing on, which Woolsey consciously covered under a folder, as he sat up, straightening his coat.

 

Alec’s eyes sprang up too, right away, meeting Woolsey’s across the desk and Magnus found it was his cue to do the appropriate deed behoven to him and gallantly introduce the two to each other.

 

“May I introduce Woolsey Scott, the Head of London’s werewolves pack. And this is the Shadowhunter representative sent from the London’s Institute in the matter I warned you of, Alexander-,” he faltered, “well, in fact, I think the Institute wouldn’t want to have his name known,” he quirked his eyebrows, ending the explanation there, leaving that matter for Alec to deal with.

 

"Mr Scott," Alec reached out his hand, shaking Woolsey 's firmly, eyes leveled, expression both open and rigid.

 

"Security so strict on Shadowhunters' side these days that we're not even allowed as much information as full names?" Woolsey ventured in a civil manner, but with an obvious tinge of bitterness, as, with a gallant bow, he led them nonetheless out of the study and towards the drawing room. 

 

"Not quite - that is just my personal problem that Shadowhunters are strict about," Alec replied, an unexpected touch of pardon in his expression. 

 

"Alexander right here sees himself more as a mediator in this issue, as he clarified on our way here," Magnus informs, whether to Alec’s beneficial or inconvenience, it was in Alec’s hands to establish that.

 

"How do you expect to be a reliable third party when you are by default devoted to one of the sides?" Woolsey turned the inquiry further, not too forgiving himself, when they were all seated.

 

"I am devoted to my work, not to my institution," Alec answered shortly and unfazed with a slight shrug.

 

“And what is your work, then? Aside from the story about the decree of the Angel, if I may ask,” Woolsey pressed it, perhaps curious himself whether Alec actually had any thoughts or just meant to say the proper thing. 

 

“Most likely figuring what is right before going off to do it - so what proper investigation should be, I guess?” 

 

"Then what would be your current opinion in the investigation at hand? Magnus had sent me an account of what’s happening in London right now, which-”

 

"-which is I will guess a vague account on things going wrong and not much of a coherent process in redeeming it taking place, because that's what's happening."

 

“Well, I wasn’t going to put it like that, but well,” Woolsey smirked.

 

“I guessed so. But we might as well not put in the effort to try and put it any other way,” Alec shrugged. 

 

“So what is the right thing to do in the present issue, in your opinion?”

 

“Well, I guess first of all, we’d consider what would be the right outcome.”

 

“I want my people safe. You want your law respected. These two desired outcomes usually contradict each other.”

 

“And that is why I think my focus should be on finding a middle way. My role should be to make sure what is known includes the both sides' facts of this investigation and that so do the eventual decisions.”

 

“And what would you see  _ my  _ role being, since you called upon me?”

 

Alec leaned in, assertive,  “You are these people’s leader. I need to know how you’d judge the case within your own legal and organisational system, to begin with - which circumstances pose value and how you’d interpret them.”

 

Magnus saw Woolsey frown, perhaps dumbfounded, as he himself did feel quite taken aback. He seemed to consider his next words, “You want me to talk about what decision I’d take if I was allowed to take a decision?”

 

It was Alec’s turn to look somewhat confused, giving a thought to how he’d word his next response. “What I mean by a middle way is not negotiating a final decision, but discussing the progress as we go.”

 

“Sounds impractical, in my experience,” Magnus noted.  _ Quite idealistic _ , too, he didn’t add. But then again, trying is the first step to succeeding and he hadn’t seen it tried before, not quite like this idea of cooperating. 

 

“Oh, it is practical, just more troublesome, but usually gives the best unanimous result, if the best result is what we’re both aiming for,” he directed it a lot like an inquiry to Woolsey.

 

Woolsey sighed, contemplative, “Well, whether this heads to such a very unanimous best, I guess a hypothetical Nephilim discussion as such won’t hurt as much as Nephilim acts do,” he grimaced and Alec pursed his lips at that, although not ill meant. 

 

The conversation from there was however strangely equally footed. Woolsey of course would know the Clave law, but Alec too seemed to have extended knowledge about werewolves’ organisation, possible issue and even symptoms related probabilities, although he also asked for confirmation and opinions from Woolsey on that territory. He also asked about the family in question and who he could ask for more information. The atmosphere was professional, but not tense - in a way, it did not quite feel as a Shadowhunter being present.

 

***

 

"This didn't go as bad as I expected," Magnus remarked, now out of Woolsey’s house. 

 

"You were expecting  _ me _ to do badly," Alec asserted as a conclusion but not as a surprise or insult - a head shaking deduction of a sort.

 

"I did  _ not  _ say it like that," Magnus himself supplied with the tilt of a head, not phrasing it like an apology since it didn’t feel as needed or even asked for.

 

"You were thinking it," Alec countered, not teasing or suspecting, just too naturally.

 

And there it was again. He could try and trip Alec’s words but he could never really know-

 

“You claim to know a great deal about the way I think, Mr Lightwood.”

 

“I might.”

 

-when Alec might surprisingly leave him speechless and curious again.

 

Being punched fiercely into and through his chest was something Magnus had been accustomed to, as of late. But Alec's surprises didn't punch a fiery rod through his soul like Camille's. Alec's surprises came along smoothly and comfortably, just like his silences. 

 

“Cheeky, Alexander,” Magnus slightly shook his head, finally, with a low chuckle. 

 

It may have been strange not to be called Mr Lighwood for once - okay, so Magnus may have been rather petty right there. 

 

“What are we doing outside?” Alec chose to ask instead, looking ahead curiously and unguarded across the Italian boulevard.

 

“I’m hungry; I’ve only had an early breakfast and it’s been a long day,” Magnus sighed.

 

“And so you stop by in Rome for a late lunch.” It wasn’t only the fact that he didn’t pose it as a question, but the manner of talking itself increased the obvious lack of surprise, more like a ‘of course you would do this…  _ again (Magnus’ mind supplied) _ ’, leaving Magnus’ mind wheezing all over again.

 

“Would it make more sense to pass this opportunity in lieu of going back to  _ England _ , to eat  _ English food _ ?”

 

“Alright, you have a good point right there.” 

 

But whatever the full truthful  portrait of Alexander Lightwood showcased, it was not something carelessly crayoned on a paper corner. It wasn't an easy guess, a caricature or a carbon copy of someone else's craft. He was a whole spectrum of colors, a person of his own, and Magnus might as well consider him as such, instead of a confusing footnote in Magnus' story.

 

Whether their story would end badly in his future, it might not be that Alec was dreadful himself, or that he considered Magnus as such. Magnus wished he had demanded that longer explanation, for the simple closure of this - or a more righteous opening, given the order of events.

 

Alexander was one of the most confusing and intriguing person he's met in many decades, there was no doubt in that. He hadn't felt drunk without drinking in a long while. And it may be a mistake to grasp at that interest just now, but perhaps he could hoard more hopes for the future. And think less of the past.

 

***

 

As soon as he was back at the Institute, he realized he’s completely forgotten about Julian. He had meant to check on him after breakfast to find out he was still sleeping and not long after he was outdoors with Magnus. And it was now past afternoon already, so he dodged that mental nagging at the lack of professionalism of not reporting his meeting first in lieu of heading to his bedroom. 

 

He opened the door slowly, but halfway froze into place, finding there was someone else moving in the room, but definitely not a child. That someone was busying with the bed sheets. At first, Alec thought his vision was going soft to explain the shivering light at the edges, but he realized what was going on as the shiny eyes turned on him questioningly.  

 

“Oh, hello, I’m sorry, I-,” he mumbled quickly. 

 

“He left hairs on my pillows,” the glistening young woman answered in a soft, but irritated voice, then ignored him again as she fretted around the rest room, surveying its condition or moving things around. 

 

“I was just looking for the little-,” he tried again. He felt awkward, like he intruded- well, he definitely did. It was apparent that the ghost was the previous room’s owner. The one who died not quite long ago. 

 

"His mother came around to pick him up," she supplied, looking through some letters.

 

"His mother?" he narrowed his eyes.

 

“This is the first time I managed to get this far inside,” she went on in a dreamy voice, a sort of hunger settling in her eyes as she scanned her cosmetics table. Her voice was so soft now, he was really struggling to understand her.

 

Then she winced in a sort of absent-minded manner, seemingly remembering his presence, "Yes. I guess, once the worst was over and her transformation complete, a werewolf's healing powers kicked in. She looked rather pale and weak to me, nonetheless. Perhaps even feverish. The whiteness of the face brought out the scars rather fully, you can imagine, especially still freshly red and bluish as they were. Not that I could see more than the face, but it showed enough. She also asked about her husband. She seemed even worried for him. Strangely. Didn't seem to hold much of a grudge against him,  disfigurement considered. But well... love can be capable of foolishness, I suppose,” she surprised him with that sounded like a teary bitter laugh, “I know some worse stories, though. Clinging to someone you just think you know, it’s not worth it,” she sighs, looking hopelessly down at a hand whose shimmer started to dissipate. 

 

She started walking towards the door, although she would be able to go right through the walls, but perhaps she preferred it that way - the human way. “He pled guilty, too,” she supplied, as she walked away, “which is considerate in its way, I guess,” her voice going weaker and weaker as she departed. 

 

_ Oh, no, if he- _

 

Alec rushed out and down the hall - he needed to find Will.

 

***

 

Magnus made his way back across Blackfriars Bridge again, but alone. And he found, perhaps they didn’t hold a happy history - he and the bridge, alone. But it may be that, statistically, being here with someone else would prove to him much more damning.  A place where his life had almost ended - which would’ve been logical in its own; brutal, but concrete, unmistakable - and where, on that same night, he had thought his life was beginning again - this, a feverish dream, in comparison.

 

It had been easy, he guessed, giving his life to Camille that night, since he himself hadn’t wanted it anymore. Easy to put his efforts towards someone else’s pleasure and joys when he had had none of his own anymore. Easy to make her his reason to live, when he had needed any reason at all so desperately. 

 

Perhaps it was dumb, to think about that night. Perhaps it was dumb to think about her. But, honestly, it proved just as inefficient, drinking the memories away. He should know - he’d tried it for months now. At least, the bridge’s ledge wasn’t so tempting tonight - not like that. There was some warmth left there, still, keeping him afloat. 

 

He looked around, checking for signs of life, not so much as a rule compliant, but just not being in the mood for trouble. There were people in the distance, but not on the bridge. None who would truly wonder the purpose of it all. Or most who would let it pass. 

 

He closed his eyes calmly, then raised one finger, then two, blue sparks gathering at the tips and leaned in across the border, weaving the portal carefully, somewhere he hoped to be above, but not really touching the water. Letting out an anticipating sigh, he climbed onto the edge, his legs a bit shaky in the momentum. He stalled and paced, breathing in and out, rubbing his fingers together, widening his portal a bit here, a bit there, calculating distances, settling his nerves, fighting the setting nausea. 

 

There was no one here. No voice calling him. No one to influence his decision. That’s how he wanted this to - he wanted to be the one who closed this chapter on his own terms. Being the one to break up with Camille had been one step. But he wouldn’t be able to ever truly shake her off when she was so deeply entangled in his most haunting thoughts. He needed to take back at least bits of those assets from her. 

 

He didn’t close his eyes as his feet slipped from concrete, filling him with terror as the winding air enveloped him. His lids did close instinctively soon, however, reacting to the idea of an approaching impact.

 

He fell hard on his knees and hands, somewhere in a back alley in the vicinity of Woolsey’s house and his own residence for long months now. The knees themselves must’ve been scraped, which he could fix - the pants probably could be not, for which he sighed lamentingly. He could’ve portaled into the house, but he wanted it this way. He might’ve been acting a bit melodramatically about all this, but he  _ was _ a melodramatic person, so there’s that.  

 

He smiled weakly, mentally exhausted, panting, sitting back (his pants were already ruined all the same), tilting his head back slightly - he had just done that. His hands were scratched and bloody. His heart was still beating wildly, the adrenaline still acting up, but it was alright. Perhaps having a Nephilim’s recklessness level did pay off sometimes. And, in such a case, when you were sure of a safe landing. But he wouldn’t now be so much afraid of the fall anymore. He’s done that - fell without needing someone to keep him alive in doing it. But, best of all, he fell and found himself relieved to live, not dreading it. 

 

  Finally, he sat on his feet, a bit wobbly in the start, blue fumes enveloping his hands, evening the skin on his palms. Then, ever so gracefully, he leaned down, retrieved his hat and placed it back on his head. And ahead he went, taking one turn out of the alley and alongside the rows of houses preceding Woolsey’s. Just like the night he had left Camille’s house for a last time, pride intact, but soul lost.

 

  He walked in, this time unwelcomed and undistracted from his feelings by Woolsey’s touch. All quiet and lonely. But perhaps in situations as such it was better that way. He took off his coat, magiced a fire in the study, poured himself a strong drink and just laid down on a sofa and deliberated for some moments. He was exhausted. Too many portals -  too much magic. Too many whirling thoughts, too. But still-

 

_ Ah, yes, this wouldn’t do _ .

 

He stood up, drained the glass in one go and walked wearily upstairs to the bedroom he used, looking around, not even he knowing for what. The truth was, there’s not much of his and of him in that room altogether, just a few notable things to consider. Clothes, he liked to change them a lot, but a few suit pieces and certain materials he couldn’t conceive losing. He packed those, rummaged through the drawers and retrieved all the money he had left and a few other trinkets. Among them, he dishearteningly found a hair ribbon that had used to be hers.

 

  It was just a damn ribbon. It wasn’t even like he took it out and cried over it at night or anything - nothing of the kind. But boy, was he good at letting go? Or maybe not quite ‘letting go’ was the part where his problem laid. In all honestly, he could let go quite easily, the moment he realized it was his best option. But as much time as passed him - or perhaps due to that - he couldn’t just bereave and forget. Memories were something Magnus held dear and considered crucial to a person, no matter where reality and present stood. So he packed that, too, all the same. 

 

He walked back down upstairs, sent a few fire messages and checked his watch when he had done that, too. He should go out for some dinner, then come back in time to finish that bottle, to assure himself a good night’s sleep and as much of health as his controversial diet admitted. 

 

He’d wake up clear and sober in the morning and then-... Well, he’d get there when he gets there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe now that I posted this, the curse will end and I'll actually be able to finish and post my other things too...


	10. Vicissitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one question. Where do you new subscribers come from? Where do you find this fic? And how do you look at my update rate and think ya, that seems acceptable, I'm keeping this??

 

   Magnus’ sleep was not peaceful and it was not long-lasting. His psyche had been riled up and, although momentarily soothing, alcohol poured over restless nerves only gave life to an anxiety spiked stupor, adrenaline and sedative, both sharing control of his body and soul, mind wired, but exhausted, resting in restlessness. 

 

  His past, a wreck; his present, a disaster; his future, troublesome. It was rather hard to be an optimist, rather hard to fight the thoughts that were not new, so very unimpressive and yet so very devastating, as they’re always been, all since they first made their way in, so long ago he could not quite put his finger on the very moment they’ve made that nest in his skull and lived there comfortably at the expense of his own well being - funnily enough, not to remember, given it had had such impact on his life forever since.   

 

_ There’s nothing worthwhile in living. There’s nothing worthwhile in yourself. Give it up, Magnus Bane. That isn’t even your name. You are barely real. You are barely alive all the same. Your very self is unknown to everyone and those who are aware of the reality of it scorn you. You are a ghost in this world. Your existence is irrelevant, disposable, forgettable. You mark no lives. They don’t stick around. They don’t need you. Your usefulness has an expiration date. Your the plate with food that nobody likes, but everyone picks and nibbles on the more savory pieces of, not to be left hungry, not to be impolite, bidding their time until a better course arrives.  _

 

_ Give it up, warlock. _

 

Magnus bolted up, unsettled by the smell of burning, always a too triggering one to ignore for him.  _ Strange _ , was his first thought, drifting into wakefulness, noting the quietness and the still darkness of the room. Night was still in its prime and nothing obvious had disturbed it. He sat on the covers of the still made bed, rubbed his eyes and fumbled for a candle and match ungraciously enough to be grateful not to be seen. Then he groaned, abandoning whatever object his hands had managed to grab, embarrassingly recalling the notion of magic. Yes, it was good to be alone and unwatched tonight. He lit a bulb of light in his open palm, and found himself watching the empty space beside him wistfully instead. He clicked his tongue at the shadow of what his mind saw. He shook his head with abhorrence at the self indulgence and finally looked around sleepily. An unlit, but lightly scorching piece of paper was perched right on his lap. He took note of the spidery writing and knew instantly and with deep irritation that he wouldn't be able to turn around in the bed and ignore it. 

 

Aldous wasn't the kind of warlock you'd want to ignore, even if just for the reason that he'd be literally offended and scornful for the rest of eternity and turn his back the next time you'd call on him, but also... well, let's say there were more worrisome reasons to avoid ignoring someone of Aldous' calibre. 

 

Aldous was requesting his presence the soonest possible with 'the Shadowhunter' in tow. Ah, well, Magnus obliging to show up immediately at his senior's door was one thing.  But showing up at the Institute at this time of night - which was? - only near midnight, just requesting an audience with a Shadowhunter like some kind of- 

 

This wasn't even his problem that got him into the works of such ridiculous errands. He let the back of his head hit the pillow again with a sigh, recalling the passing of last night like a feverish dream.  Oh, the things he'd rather have contemplated on, and he's somehow wrapped up in some Shadowhunter business he should have nothing to do with. Well, technically, he does have something to do with _ him. _ But, nonetheless, it's none of his fault that Alexander is ended up in a place and time where and when Magnus should  _ not _ have anything to do with the man. 

 

He propped himself up purposefully, protest building up in his strained muscles, a long strand of hair falling over his forehead and blocking his vision. He blew it away at the same time that a second note flew from the fireplace and onto the bed, at his feet.  _ What kind of a post office had this place become? _

 

As he reached out and read it, he thought that, granted, less lucky men than himself did exist. 

Next thing, he burnt it, understanding, without any need of clarification, that the information had been for his eyes only. The contents had left him rather numb and mostly bitter and even less unwilling to go about a deed he’s got stuck with by offering Shadowhunters undeserved counseling.

It was at times like this that Magnus was more tired of living and humanity than ever, tired of eternity and overlapping human behaviour. And so he guessed he’d get through this as always, nodding along and moving on. He’s been due to leave for too long now. He should know better.

 

***

 

   Will was not in his office, or in the training halls, or in any of the common rooms. It was already past supper and any knowledge outside of such domestic activities that would have those in the Institute residing in any of those was beyond Alec’s knowledge’s grasp. Well, bedrooms seemed like the most likely location for people at this time of night, but all a housemaid could say in regards to that was, ‘the young master did not retire for the night’, so there’s that.

 

The only actual occupant of the couch in the drawing room was Church, who Alec reluctantly recognised, vaguely wondered at him being here, so far from where he ought to have been, in spite of the knowledge of his immortality, then sighed, resigned and mentally tired, guessing it’s yet another fact he has no choice but to accept and no question in order to keep his slipping sanity.

 

A desperate resolve did form in his mind with the realization, though. 

 

  Back when he’s first arrived in New York, Jace would frequently go off and hide alone in the most intricately hidden spots around the Institute, avoiding Alec and Izzy, avoiding company altogether. Not only was Alec’s sense of duty put at test - because he’s been told ‘look after him while he’s here, Alec’ - but the Shadow World wouldn’t let one be innocent for long and Alec had heard enough stories about Shadowhunters dealing with grief, and how they cope, and how sometimes they don’t. But, while irritated and worried, Alec could hardly ever find Jace whenever the boy didn’t want to be found. 

 

  He remembered one of those days, how Jace had been missing for hours, how the phone he had been given for emergencies was turned off, how his parents weren’t there as they barely ever were, how adults were roaming all around him but were all too busy to care, how he was exhausted of running in circles and sickly distressed and all he could think of doing any more was call out ‘Jace!’ once again, in the empty space, in apprehension, in vain. 

 

  Church was sitting stiffly but unbothered at a door’s corner, licking his paw. The cat has been there ever since Alec could remember, but it was said that he’d been around for even longer, that he was of demon breed and Alec found it strange they’d keep him as such in an Institute, but he had not meant to be insolent by disputing that. He was distant and scornful with every person around and had hissed at Alec the first and only time he’d tried to touch him, when he was about 3 or 4, and he’s been lowkey frightened of the cat since. 

 

  Church oddly reacted to Alec’s last cry, lifting his head in Alec’s direction at the sound with a strange huff as if in surprise, which brought his presence to Alec’s attention, and alert eyes as he’s never seen in the lazy, neutral feline. The cat jumped on all fours, still retaining an aloof air and drawn out pace in its movements as it stepped in front, back turned to Alec. Church waved his tail as one would’ve waved a hand, as if urging him to follow somewhere and Alec told himself he was just jumping to wild conclusions out of desperation, but when the cat started walking in a decisive pace, he followed nonetheless. 

 

Church was quick. Very quick. Alec eventually had to run fast enough to run out of breath to keep up with him and he started to wonder whether the cat had actually meant for him to follow or was just running from him instead. But he was sure that, if Church had wanted Alec away from him, he would’ve more likely made Alec get out of his sight.

 

And Jace was always in the darkest of corners, in the least travelled spots, but Church found him every time, all the same. 

 

Alec had sneaked later and rewarded Church with a piece of his mother’s favorite salmon which he hoped to be appreciated as a nice alternative to Church’s usual cat food. By the speed with which it got swallowed, barely chewed even, Alec concluded it to have been welcome, although all Church did was immediately turn his back on him and leave, in his usual snobbish pace.

 

Over the years, this fragile budding of sorts was their little secret. Church was none to share and, in all fairness,  Alec was neither. Church continued to be almost cordial and frequently helpful and Alec continued to pass him all sorts of gourmet meat and fish.

 

But this was a new - or perhaps old - Church, too.

 

“Church, do you know where Will is?” And when he turned to him with a “the hell are you to address me?” stare, Alec didn’t even feel the offence. 

 

“The loud Shadowhunter,” he reinforced. “Jem’s friend,” he added, knowing the two had a bit of a history.

 

Any person who would see him talking to the strange lone cat roaming the Institute might find it queer, but then again, there were odder facts about him that they were already aware of.

 

Church looked back at him with a bored expression and Alec could swear the huff that followed was too much like a sigh. As if carrying a great burden, the cat started walking and then trotting ahead and up the stairs. Alec followed as he climbed one more flight of stairs, and then another, going down a long hall, passing a few doors before stopping in front of one of them, directing his wide yellow eyes briefly towards it, before strolling again down the hall, the way they came from. 

 

Knowing the usual layout of Institutes, they were headed rather far from the quarters of a Head. These looked more like the halls normally used for visitors or young trainees choosing the residence and tutoring of an Institute over the Academy in Idris. Fully educated, adult Shadowhunters only showed up in the morning like at any other workplace, living almost normal lives on the side, unless they were on guard or hunt duty overnight.

 

Alec himself and his siblings and parabatai (and adopted brother) had grown up in the New York Institute. It had been a home of some kind, to them. There were quarters resembling a comfortable mundane home for the managing family, presently the Lightwoods, but they had barely ever spent any time there. Their parents were always travelling. The kitchen had been scarcely used. The ‘family rooms’, too. The children had spent their time roaming the Institute instead, for more  oftener than the busy adults around them would’ve preferred.

 

In their teens, Alec, Izzy and Jace had moved into trainees’ quarters, residing in halls like this. But Izzy, for one, had always used to talk about ‘a place to call her own’ although the inside of her room was as her own as one could make it. Alec hadn’t used to think, back then, that there would be a life for him outside of the Institute. And Jace - Jace would never answer it honestly, but being ‘on his own’ probably never sounded as his way of being at ease - Jace, who would’ve never admitted just how much comfort he found in family.

 

Will, who had been appointed as Head for a while now, and soon to be married and probably hoping to start a family - as Alec presumed people orderly did in the Victorian days as a given - would’ve been more likely to have settled in those family quarters. 

 

But the door opened and Will appeared into that small opening of the door Alec had been led to. Half a foot more in height, Alec could briefly glance above his head and across the room, enough to notice a bare bed and no signs of occupancy.

 

“How did you know where to find me?” Will asked, voice rather husky, and Alec couldn’t decide whether there was irritation or something else. 

 

“From Church," Alec said simply. 

 

“Right.” A lack of explanation for a lack of explanation. "Why were you looking for me?" he moved on.

 

Alec observed Will fully. His tie and coat were missing, two buttons of the white shirt opened at his throat. His hair was mussed,  the skin under his eyes tinged with blue - he knew things were out of his control; he was frustrated; he was insecure. 

 

"I had my meeting. With Woolsey Scott." 

 

"Right," Will ran his hand across his face and through his hair, his expression not like he had forgotten, but like the later this would've been brought up, the better. Will was overwhelmed. 

 

"How did the interrogation go?" Alec chose to ask first, partly for honestly being interested in the details of it, aside from the soon to become catastrophic conclusion, but also out of a sort of sympathetic pity for the younger man - too young still for this kind of decisions. 

 

They were standing almost awkwardly, speaking at the creaking door that belonged to none of them. But Will held on to its knob with whitening fingers like an anchor.

 

"He said everything that was incriminating and and nothing to defend himself," Will said it in a way to himself, almost questioning. "His wife came and she cried as he repeated himself and they both looked helpless. He, like he dreaded it but there was nothing else he could do. She, like she wanted to stop him, but there was nothing else she could do. That Mr Rogers, even, as smug and quarrelling as he'd been before, he just stood there contained like- He’s had a private talk with him before that and when-... It was nothing like a battle, when you feel it's truly justice you are applying, you know. It doesn't feel like winning,"  Will trailed off.

 

"You've sent the verdict for approval," Alec concluded for him.

 

"I had to write in the law that applied, the circumstances considered, and it-," Will mumbled, almost apologetically.

 

"I know," Alec replied quietly. Taking decisions when all you've ever known was following orders could be a cruel waking up moment. When you think you should be able to have a choice, feeling like you don't have it - not having it all the same - did make things seem kind of hopeless. 

 

"Execution. That's the applied verdict, but this is just-"

 

"I know," Alec repeated. 

 

No getting involved.  No changing things. He couldn't. But this...

 

"Jem wouldn't have let this happen," Will unconsciously let the door fall fully open as he walked to sit on the edge of the bed, eyes unfocused, looking exhausted and not like he had much of control over his own body. 

 

Alec breathed in, following him in, sitting with more confidence on an opposite chair. "Will, I don't think-"

 

"No. He wouldn't let  _ me _ be like this. He knew how to put me on the right track,” Will pretty much whined the words, something of desperation in his voice. “What I mean is,” his voice fell low, almost a whisper, then, “I'm directionless without him, Alec. I don't know my own right track," he finished with a quieter terror that was somehow more senseless than the beginning. 

 

Alec felt it was the kind of confidence he shouldn’t be allowed into. He was pretty much a stranger and Will was vulnerable and confused right now and, really,  just so young. Barely an adult but very much an adult and a soldier to be taken seriously still. A Shadowhunter became grown up in mind too quickly to catch up emotionally. 

 

Perhaps having this talk should’ve waited. Perhaps Alec’s should’ve excused himself and given him space the moment Will showed up very disheveled at the door of a room not lived in for quite a while - because he knew, once he averted his eyes from Will only to have them focused on a violin laid carefully in the back, he knew whose room this used to be. 

 

This was the kind of confession Will would feel awkward about the sooner he got back to his senses - the sooner he gained control back. And he’d most definitely avoid Alec for quite a while.

 

But then it dawned on him - maybe this was not so random a thought to confide. Because Alec did know. The discolored, punctured parabatai rune on his hip only made him uneasy and nauseous when he was alone, and he did have the assurances to tell himself - Jace had to be alright, Jace would be by his side again. Jace was somewhere  on the other side and they were parabatai still.

 

He thought of when the mention of parabatai has been made. It wasn’t just that Jace was a Herondale. It was the fact that Will  _ knew _ , while no one else in the room seemed to truly understand the depth of it. And maybe he had seen it in Alec, too, at the time, maybe he had talked about James with so much enthusiasm, so openly, because he  _ knew _ . Because Will  _ knew _ . And Alec knew as well.

 

He thought of Jace. What he would have told him. What he would do and say as a parabatai. What Will might need. But things weren’t that straightforward. He’d tell Jace to suck it up and do what he ought to do in a way only Jace would find comforting and reassuring. Because Jace would understand the meaning behind his words and even those words that he’d fail to say. 

 

 

But Will wasn’t Jace and they had no connection, no memories. Although, Alec did have some glimpses of memories of Will, through James’ eyes. Stories James would launch into uncharacteristically, as if he didn’t quite realize it was about a century late for those few minutes. Those were stories Alec had listened politely but detachedly to, in those rare visits he and Tessa has paid them. The impression that stayed most with Alec through all those times was how James was not the talkative, lively sort. It was just the thought of Will that made him that way, as if it was Will’s memory and spirit that had used to burst with that energy and flair. And Alec himself knew, even after such a short time, there were traces of Jace in Will, or perhaps of Will in Jace. 

 

And how he’d manage this with Jace would begin with, "So you don't know what you want to do. What is it you  _ don’t _ want to do then, as a place to start?"

 

"I can't just refuse to do things I don't like," Will snorted without humor, shaking his head.

 

"You can, if you have a good reason." 

 

"I don't have one."

 

And Alec smirked, knowing the next words could make this turn either very good or very bad. "Because you're here whining and not looking for one."

 

"You can't just... make up reasons to do things as you like and expect that to be let to happen."

 

"No. If you're looking to manage it easily, that won't happen. Will, you don't seem to me like the kind of person who refrains from doing what needs to be done." 

 

"I did a lot of things, yes, but they were - a lot of them - unaccounted for. I have a responsibility now to do things right."

 

"Precisely," Alec said. "You do."

 

There was a deliberate knock against the already opened door and both looked up to see Gabriel looking tired and possibly mildly exasperated. 

 

"You're _here_ ," Gabriel commented pointedly, monotonously - also unnecessary, Alec might add. "There's an urgent message from Woolsey Scott," he talked to Will, despite Alec having been the one to attend the earlier meeting. "And that warlock is here, _right now_ ," he added - _at this very hour of day_ , remained in the subtext - still talking to Will exclusively.  

 

"As glad to be here as others are to receive me," Magnus himself spoke dryly, making his presence known, and Alec could hear the sigh in his voice.  

 

His presence seemed to take only Will and Alec by surprise, which meant that, aside from calling him 'warlock' instead of his name, he's also talked of him in third person while Magnus had been sitting right there; Alec was usually just casually irritated by Gabriel, but the effort needed to contain his anger just then was almost overwhelming; it raised like a wave on a stormy day, wild and high; Magnus' focused eyes purposefully met his instead and the wave hit the shore hit the shore, dissipated, gone with the tide, flattened in the deep. The effect hadn't been intended, but it grounded him nonetheless. 

 

***

 

Magnus was in no mood to deal with annoyingly uppity Shadowhunter brats, so he turned directly to the one Lightwood whom his business involved, laying out the reason for his presence and details of Aldous' request as succinctly and indifferently as possible, just getting it over with.  He felt the smallest of flicker at the eye contact, which he pushed away. “I don’t advice ignoring this, as much I would’ve liked to do just that myself. You Shadowhunters may be used to taking Downworlders lightly, but -”

 

“I’ll go,” Alexander sat up and raised one hand in concession, appearing to face it more or less like him - not enthusiastically much, but still as a chore that ought to be taken care of with seriousness. He looked as tired as Magnus felt, but determined. Well, this might turn out to be his ticket home - he would've had reasons to get actively involved. 

 

Will sat up, too, pushing the other Lightwood out the door with him. "We'll go see about that message, then. Thank you for helping in this, Magnus," he gave Magnus a strained, but honest smile as he went away.

 

With them gone, Magnus half deflated, letting out a restrained sigh that accidentally turned into a yawn, covering his mouth with one hand, as he raised the other to start the spell, choosing to ignore even thinking about the remaining Shadowhunter in the room.

 

"Wait, you're tired," Alexander pretty much ruined his resolve of not paying him any attention, as confusion drove his eyes to see him fumbling with his pockets, "And, I forgot, I could actually-," Alexander left that thought vaguely unfinished - leaving Magnus with his hand in the air and confused, too - producing a stele - whatever a rune could help with at such occasion. 

 

(He was briefly captivated by the vivacity of his features and fast changing expressions that such unreserved actions brought - a more boyish manner. Just moments before, Alexander had looked focused and almost stern - a calculated, unreadable resting face that seemed to be invariably his standard demeanor, even when nuanced with tinges of other emotions laced through. This other facet, it came off as raw; unexpected. Magnus wondered if this was rare, or maybe a habit you got used to.) 

 

Magnus had seen a Gray Book before and he had a rather good memory when he did intend to remember something - he'd been sure, he could remember, even vaguely and without a name or exact use, the patterns of the various runes. But the shapes Alexander was tracing left him dumbfounded - yet, not ones too intricate. 

 

The waving lights and sounds were different - quieter, more contained - but the energy and shape that opened before him were of a portal nonetheless. A portal, because Magnus had looked tired. Admittedly, he’d had at least an hour of sleep. Enough to survive, magically speaking. Enough to keep a glamour on and more or less summon a couple portals, there and back again, even though he’d have needed to sleep it off for at least half a day afterwards. Which perhaps Alec would kind of know. Which perhaps would seem worrisome enough for him as to not allow it. It felt odd, the idea of possibly being taken care of, in a situation of not ultimately needing it, rather being  _ looked after _ , and not even as a commodity that would be troublesome to get broken down for a while too long.   

 

It got himself reminded there was a functioning portaling machine within the London Institute that he himself had helped finish, but all these instances no Shadowhunter has thought of offering its uses to a warlock who should be able to convey his own, or wondered what this constant conveying might cost him. But Alec did.

 

And he also seemed to see the peculiar expression that Magnus undoubtedly wore, opening his mouth to probably explain the odds of this enabled portaling.

 

Magnus raised a hand in apprehension. "I don't even need to know." Although he wasn't sure exactly which part of this that was about.


	11. Past the long, long night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do I manage to write most of a chapter early on, but not get back to finish it for over a month or so? Idk, I really don't know...

They walked out and into into the wide darkness surrounding Aldous' house. Perhaps a couple lamps would've been nice when guests were expected, but Magnus wasn't sure Aldous thought of them as guests. He wasn't even sure what Aldous thought of them as or of people in general.

Alexander just took one quick glance at his surroundings, then strolled on.

"There should be-," Magnus started, meaning to warn him about the obvious wards, only to realize Alexander had already passed ahead and through the space separating them and the house undisturbed.

"There weren't," Alexander answered, looking back at him expectantly, not like it was the obvious conclusion of passing through without getting hit by any, but as if he'd judged matters as such before he had walked on.

He needed a moment to not be irritated by the first possibility and let it sink in that Alexander was probably not being a prickly Shadowhunter pretending to know everything - he had proven to truly know the working of many things when he had claimed so, before. This was somehow not reassuring in his feelings and impressions of the man.

He needed another to realize Alexander was waiting for him to follow.

Well, at least Aldous had had  _ some _ consideration regarding his guests. It didn't sit quite well with him to remember he found the wards up when he alone had been invited the first time around. Perhaps Aldous was starting slowly to readjust to company or perhaps it was an increased willingness to be amiable once he'd figured there's something of interest for him in it - most definitely the second.

Magnus just entered the house without warning, just like the last time. He was sure  _ some  _ measure of knowing when they arrived was in place still, with or without the wards.

Alexander followed without question and they arrived in Aldous' most unconventional living room side by side. He was already waiting for them, sitting expectantly on one of the couches - legs crossed, hands clasped around the knee, eyes looking up at them.

"Magnus," he saluted with a slight bow of the head. Then, "And the time traveling Shadowhunter, I assume," he acknowledged Alexander with a glance and a second - slower, assessing - head bow. "Please, do take a seat," and as they - reluctantly - did so, "Wonderful to have you considering my expertise."

“Lucky to have your interest in the matter," Alexander replied.

Aldous surveyed him for a few moments before asking, "Have you ever met me before-?" then, with an impatient gesture, "well,  _ after, _ ” he rectified.

“No.”

“Hm, I must have died,” Aldous concluded casually.

“It doesn't mean-,” Alexander spoke in turn, somewhat wary, as if anxious of offending.

“Oh, I would have scheduled to see what you’re up to in due time otherwise," Aldous supplied as if stalking people from the future and cornering them in some alley - as he'd expect from him in terms of 'checking up on someone' - would be the most obvious course of action.

“You might’ve been discreet,” Alexander countered, well-meaning, no doubt.

_ He doesn’t do discreet. _ “I don’t do discreet.”

Magnus couldn't help but take note of the strangeness - even for Aldous - of regarding one's likely upcoming death with such peculiar disinterest. Getting involved in this one dangerous business might as well eventually prove to be the cause of his death. But he greedily pursued it all the same. Will he too reach that time where it really doesn’t matter anymore?

“Since my lifespan is so uncertain, let’s not lose time. Now, listen to what we need to do. The spell needed will hurt a bit, alright, but I will be able to track the last traces of magic cast upon you. Anything I should be aware of since after you ended up here?"

"I did some memory spells once. Nothing complicated. No removal or changing, just refreshing," Magnus answered in his stead.

"Refreshing?" Aldous raised an eyebrow.

"I couldn't remember a lot first time I woke up here and it took a while to recall everything," Alexander explained. "I still can't remember the events of the day I was sent here, although I did remember most things."

"Right. Not a good idea to try  _ my _ hand at it now, however. What I have in mind will already take a toll on you. The identity of the spell caster would be useless if I wouldn't have the means to identify their mark, even given a successful memory retrieval." Aldous was already on his feet and approaching Alexander, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt carefully.

Alexander 's stiffened in expectancy but otherwise didn't react negatively or showed any sign of diminished determination.

The incantations, the intricate curvature of Aldous' fingers and wrists were none truly unfamiliar. Magnus himself had casted something similar times before. Spells for the detection and inspection of magic in places, not on people. One doing it badly would be disastrous, one doing it well, just a little better - definitely painful; extracting magic out of someone was kind of like pulling at pieces of their brain. Magnus wouldn't have the skill to even try, at this point. He'd most likely end up cracking someone's head open if he tried.

The grey vapours of Aldous’ magic clung to Alexander's skin, sticky and stinging, most definitely - it should feel a bit like poison, too; it wasn't magic meant for a human body - for a living body. Alexander flinched once at the initial shock, sitting up straight, yet looked seemingly unperturbed from then on.

The vapour shrunk onto themselves a few minutes later and dissipated with a sharp low blow, leaving Alexander panting and trembling slightly - finally allowing himself to, Magnus would guess.

"Hm," Aldous nodded absentmindedly to himself, as if he'd took note of something valuable but not quite enough. "Right, I need to do this a second time."

Alexander groaned - understandably - wiping a sheen of sweat off his forehead.

"Did it not work?" Magnus asked, knowing damn well it did - even to some extent.

Aldous saw it in him, too, judging by the returning gaze. "Oh, it did, indeed. Patience.  I'll clear this up in no time," spoken with a glint in his eyes. Then, turning to Alexander in a more business-like manner, "Right. Take your time. Massage your temples, breath," Aldous enumerated, not much reassuring, but rather  instructive. Alexander breathed in, closed his eyes for a few moments, then opened them looking determined once again.

But his body language did betray him slightly, this time. The small tremble and sweating on it, the slight flutter of the eyes; Magnus could imagine the clenching teeth behind the tightness of his mouth. His own mimicked him in his incapacity and frustration, an absentminded rub between his fingers.  He couldn't quite place the anxiousness but then again it was only natural - he had brought Alexander here. Most definitely by the trust in him was that Alexander chose to do this.

And then it was over, and it seemed even harder for Alexander to catch his breath this time, his body heaving and trembling heavily. Magnus' pulse somewhat settled too, but his consciousness was somehow still reeling.  He wanted to help, he felt like he had to help some way, but he couldn't bring himself to close the distance, he couldn't find the words to explain himself - his action - in doing so. He knew Aldous wouldn't go as far as putting Alexander ' s life in danger, even if only for both practical and logical reasons - he needed him out of interest and he wouldn’t risk getting in trouble with the Clave; he knew Alexander would know as much, too; he knew it would seem odd to overreact and be worried. And so he waited it out. And he did not show there was a kind of hurt on his part in doing it.

He was too focused on Alexander's breathing becoming normal again to realise right away what Aldous was saying next, as he observed the already passing danger, too, "You know, this is one boundary I would normally respect in regards to other fellow warlocks. However, the magical traces prior to yours are of an almost identical signature to it, but…, " he paused momentarily, pouring tea, bidding his time, maybe giving Magnus the time to turn his entire attention back to him, “of a different - quality, energy, power...," Aldous resumed his speech with a brief assessing glance at Magnus.

"I believe you start to understand where this is heading," Aldous sipped his tea slowly, casually, "I need to know your father’s name," he pushed that request forward abruptly, demanding. Magnus stopped in the motion of raising his own tea cup - an attempt of his own at nonchalant behavior, now failed. 

"It would ease my work considerably," Aldous went on in a conversationalist manner. "Or perhaps  _ he _ could tell me. I also seem to understand there’s at least one warlock he did meet in the future. You see, I had to go a little further back after the first attempt. The very last magical traces in his time were yours - sort of  _ yours _ , you understand. This was a least a three-way business, I gather. But I’m not interested in more personal details-”

 

As if it hasn't gotten personal enough already. 

"This is a wonderful Chinese mix,” Aldous switched the conversation, almost cheerily, “A traditional green tea with a few aromatic spices - it has been my favorite tea for at least the past decade. I made some investments in it, too. You see, it is a family business and they meant to discontinue it - meaning to sell the land and move to the city, find a better life... you know, every peasant's dream-"

 

Magnus’ throat was dry, but he had no longer any interest in the tea before him. There was always weigh in his father’s name. It weighed more  _ now _ .  

 

"Go ahead," to Alexander. A challenge.  A defeat. A curiosity. He wasn't sure.

A pause. A questioning look. An avoided gaze.

“Asmodeus,” he said, his voice tired, weak. And it already carried more meaning than it already should by default.

It may have been because Alexander had said it with the graveness that it due. It may have been because he couldn't be sure exactly where the gravity weighed more to Alexander.  The father of a warlock. The Greater Demon father of a warlock. The Greater Demon father of a warlock he unwisely got involved with. The Greater Demon father of a warlock he unwisely got involved with who had caused him harm he was not even fully aware of.

Magnus wasn't even sure he wanted to know. He had thought he could guess this thing that had been between him and Alexander.  He had thought it ought to had been simple. He had thought it ought to have ended alright - peacefully, not affecting their wellbeing on the long term.

“Ah, of course. It does seem… appropriate,” Aldous smirked with an assessing nod at the information.

Magnus could feel his own mouth stuck in a stiff thin line - he did not bother to try and change it. He sat up, following with as much politeness as he could muster, "I believe you have enough information to aid you at this stage. I should return Mr Lightwood to the Institute - it's late and he's in no state, I believe, to make it back on his own."  _ And it's all my fault _ , his mind supplied. "Do contact me if you need anything else." Leave  _ him _ alone, he wanted to add but didn't. He reached out his hand and Aldous shook it with a slow nod.

Then, Aldous extended his hand somewhere towards Magnus' side, where - Magnus turned his eyes in that direction - Alexander was already standing, surprisingly - which he seemed to have managed rather smoothly and unperturbedly enough despite his state - his hand shaking Aldous' firmly still, despite the continuing lack of colour in his complexion and a worrisome numbness in his gaze.

 

“Thank you for your assistance.” Dully.

The knowledge that this whole situation had to do with his father came back to him - he tasted bile in his mouth, a sickling tightness all down his throat.

And Alexander knew. He knew who Magnus' father was. He was afraid to ask what that meant to him. He was afraid to ask through what ways Alexander had came to know it. And now he had been made aware he was the reason for his predicament.  He was afraid to know what this meant to him, too.

He walked out in a daze, reached the cold air night gratefully - he hadn't realized just how much he needed it. The reminder of Alexander's presence and attention beside him kept Magnus from taking in a breath as soundly as he would've wished. But he did taste enough clean measured breaths to settle his mind enough to get a grip of himself for starting to conjure their portal.

The hand placed on his shoulder startled him and stole that focus, his attempted spell failing with it. He almost snapped back at Alexander for compromising their means of making their way back. But then he saw Alexander had taken out his stele and understood what the cautionary hand had been for. As slow as Magnus himself felt, Alexander traced the earlier unknown rune, opening up a new portal - right, there’s  _ that _ .

"The Institute?" he found himself asking. He sounded bland.

"Yeah,” he answered, as if dumbfounded. “I'll just- open one more for you there, if that’s okay," he rectified, as if it just dawned on him they needed two separate destinations. “Thank you,” he added and Magnus narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher wherever that would come from, whatever for. But he didn’t get to  “I'm sorry you got caught up in this,” Alec added just as hastily.

 

_ He _ got caught up in this. 

 

“My father-,” Magnus started through clenched teeth, not even sure where he could go with that, just knowing he had to say  _ something _ about it, but frankly he didn’t have enough clear thoughts even for himself.   

 

“Isn't it how this works?” Alec thankfully shook his head just at the right moment, “I deal with your family and you deal with mine?” 

-Magnus blinked. A light joke quoting the existence of their future relationship. And a first time referring to it so openly and offhandedly, as if meeting families was for people like them. And as he said it, Alec smiled. 

He smiled the kind of smile that probably had him deeply besotted in another life. To hell with it, he's probably rather besotted now. 

A moment. 

Two.

Alec sobered, seemingly catching himself, and stepping aside, he signaled a simple ‘after you’. 

***

 

Alec finally took the time to look and point out differences: eyebrows not so slick and pointed - not plucked; his face thinner; his chest not as broad. Magnus somehow looked younger than he’s ever known him, ironically.

 

He thought of him the other day, enthusiastically eating an italian sauce he’s ‘sworn off after a bad incident sometime at the beginning of the 20th century’ and stopping by at a shop insisting on buying a coat with a design he’s described as ‘atrocious’ just 2 weeks ago in Alec’s time when they’ve spotted it during a Museum visit in Milan, answering ‘god, no’ to Alec’s teasing ‘looks like something you would’ve worn’. 

 

And yet.

 

They both paused as the portal closed behind them.

 

"You know quite a few things about me," Magnus spoke, as in cue. A statement, not a question. The tenseness in his jaw was still present.

"I do." 

Magnus’ expressions were easy for him to decipher, even when his best guards were present. Right now, Magnus was not even so guarded. So tired. So much younger. The rolling and dissipating impressions on his face were crystal clear. He understood.

“What did you just decide against?” he asked before thinking better of it, before realizing just now it was none of his business.

Magnus let out a humorless laugh, “It’s enough for you to know that much.”

He understood that, too.

Then, out of the blue, completely unrelated, as if the final pieces just dropped in right through his exhausted haze, “He told you the reason why they retracted their defence.” 

Magnus’ eyebrows twitched, but nothing else. Alec didn’t demand the truth, though. What he asked after instead was, “Are you mad about the reason itself or what the truth might do?”

Magnus looked back at him in silence for a few moments - warily, calculating - then, “Both.”

He averted his gaze. Dizzily, he started tracing the rune, putting all of his focus in getting it right. And finally, he stepped back again, and let him go.

 

"How- how did you do that?" an incredulous voice said from behind him.

"Will," Alec turned around, caught unaware. The sudden movement made thoughts blurrier. He groaned, catching the right side of his head.

Will deflated and sighed, rubbing his head. He was still dressed up and looked even more haggard and tired. "I'm not just too tired and hallucinating, right?  You made that with a rune."

"Future thing. Better left untold. What happened?  Why are you still awake? How is it going?" he asked in succession, rather monotonously. God, he was tired. He didn’t really want to hear.

Things were probably bad, though, since Will did seem to decide an unknown exciting rune didn't quite make the cut on his list of current priorities.

He mused his hair further, saying,  "It escalated. It's bad. Charlotte is here. She heard that...," he trailed off with a sigh, "It's bad. How’s - your thing going?"

"Aldous... traced the spell's magic - that which brought me here - and he's currently following on that lead." Alec couldn't quite figure out himself at the moment how that would work or could even help. If this was Asmodeus-

"So it's magic?"

"So it would seem," he answered, and nothing else.

 

"Will, someone else is here?" A voice down the hall. Gabriel. Steps followed.

"Who, now?" Will sounded like he was on the verge of snapping. He didn’t, for now.

“A vampire.” He came into sight. Thankfully, not looking the better of the three.

 

“A vampire,” Will echoed with matching skeptical look and voice.

 

Gabriel crossed his arms. "Seems to know about  _ him _ . Why does  _ a vampire _ know about him? Why does anyone know about him?" he inquired as if questioning which of the two could be the idiot responsible for this. 

"I don't know," Will answered flailing his hands in the air in frustration as if it wasn't the first time that day when something he had nothing to with was blamed on him.

_ Vampire? _ Alec placed his hand on his pocket in apprehension, alertness seeping back in a scrambled corner of his mind. This should be it. It had to be.

"For someone who's just lately arrived around here, you surely have a lot of-- people knowing you."

"Immortal people. Definitely nothing illogical in I, a person from over a century in the future, knowing those who should still be alive over a century from now. Where is she?"

 

“I didn’t specify it was a ‘she’,” Gabriel smirked as if he had figured he was onto something.

 

“Yes, you didn’t,” Alec answered simply, not giving him any opportunity for further satisfaction. He walked down the stairs instinctively, going towards the obvious lone possible meeting point where a vampire was concerned - the sanctuary. 

 

Lost in thought, it took a while to even notice he was closely followed. “I suppose you’ll want to be present.” Of course. He took out his stele, again, drew an extra stamina rune. He felt significantly revitalized instantly, only for the worse for when he’d eventually get knocked down, he knew as much.

 

“Obviously, we will,” Gabriel answered for both of them. 

 

“I will join you shortly with Charlotte. She wouldn’t talk even with her before you arrived,” Will took a detour on the next floor, leaving him and Gabriel to climb down in awkward silence.

 

The sanctuary was practically in the Institute’s basement and it was badly lit, meant more for vampire prisoners rather than diplomatic meetings, he would guess. 

Lily’s small figure was already stepping closer, probably having sensed their oncoming presence, inching towards a better lit corner. He met her halfway, noting the 19th century look on her - the dress, the apparent lack of make-up, hair pulled back tightly, but no undercut in sight. He would’ve thought this wasn’t the Lily Chen he knew either, if it wasn’t for the look on her face owing to it.

 

“Have you been waiting long?” he let it out with a sigh of something like relief. It was reassuring, having someone he knew looking back at him in recognition as well. 

 

“A little above half an hour. Didn’t expect you to be busy in the dead of night.” Her voice had a mischievous tone to it.

 

“Yet here I am.”

 

“ And I thought that not having your usual responsibilities would make you more available. Or allow you more free time. Goodness, those circles under your eyes are probably not from being carefree and partying.”

 

“You know me. I always manage to find myself extra responsibility.”

 

“True. Although the two of us have other pressing issues to worry about, I came here tonight with that in mind.  You don’t even seem surprised to see me,” she arched her eyebrow.

 

He took out the paper carefully tucked in his chest pocket, “This was around where I figured we landed. You always start doodling these when you get bored in meetings - which is most of the times, really.”

 

She took it with a look of approving satisfaction, but answered all the same, “Could’ve been just something children normally drew these days and simply reminding me of my childhood.”

 

“You were born in 1938, in Michigan.”

 

“I could’ve lied about that.”

 

“You started showing me pictures of your family once when you were drunk - they were dated, too.”

 

“Well, shit, I don’t remember that.”

 

“Yeah, you were  _ quite _ drunk.”

 

She looked on behind him, noting, “I think everyone’s here,” having him whirling around, recalling they were not alone, “You should probably introduce us now. That’s what people do in most centuries.”

 

Alec pursed his lips, but complied. He observed with some amusement the perplexed looks - some better masked, some not - at the scene before them. Being friendly with a vampire probably had something to do with it.

 

“Charlotte Branwell, current Consul. Will Herondale, current Head of the Londonese Institute. Gabriel Lightwood-.”

 

“Relation of yours?” She sounded amused.

 

Alec shrugged. “Probably.” Then, with way less casualness, as he addressed the others again, “This is Lily Chen. She’s coming from the same time and place I do. There, she’s the current leader of New York’s biggest vampire clan.”

 

“So you knew someone else was here?” Charlotte questioned.

 

“Well, not really, we-”

 

“Why weren’t you around at the time?” Gabriel cut him off, addressing Lily briskly. “Why appear just now?”

 

  
“The sunrise was just around the corner, you fool,” Lily only gave him a dismissive side glance, before opening a velvet purse she carried. Alec’s heartbeats staggered - his own  wallet and phone were procured and handed to him, “I took these from you before I left,” she told him, her voice softer. “You remained unconscious and I was in a hurry and thought if oldish people found you, you'd be better off not having these on you.”

He smiled despite himself, “Thank you,” and looked down at them, feeling somewhat grounded after days of seemingly floating, then back at her, “How did you know I ended up here?” Still smiling a bit. 

 

“Someone with your description has been seen hanging around the London Institute people. I myself have been mingling in between the 19th century vampires. They wander out through the night; know of many things happening in the dark.” Then her voice and posture turned drastically serious,  “I heard Camille is out there, giving them ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lily... I so loved their dynamic in Born to endless night and I so wanted to add her in!


	12. μὴ χεῖρον βέλτιστον.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> μὴ χεῖρον βέλτιστον.
> 
> Mḕ kheíron béltiston.
> 
> "The least bad [choice] is the best."
> 
> When there is no good option, one should pick the one that does the least harm.

“Camille?” He blinked, “Wait, you heard what?”

 

“She’s taking advantage of the whole confusion in the Downworld to get something out of it,” Lily shook her head sardonically, voice on the quiet side. “You should remember her ways. She won’t get her hands dirty. _She_ won’t look for responsibility. Just whispers of inciting thoughts and ideas in others’ ears.”

 

“What is going on?” Will inquired, having Alec and Lily slightly pull apart from the comfortable, familiar leaning into each other space. He sounded as tired as Alec felt.

 

“Is that Camille Belcourt you've mentioned?” Charlotte intervened, something of unconscious professional authority in her tone, her voice.

 

“Look, we don’t know exactly who you are, but this is the kind of information you must rely to the responsible bodies within the nearest available Institute,” Gabriel came forward, too, making for a building, transparent hostility in the room.

 

Lily eyed them briefly but warily. “I don’t trust _you_.”

 

Alec stepped forward. This could’ve turned out badly. “Lily-”

 

“Let me reformulate that,” she ignored him, crossing her arms defensively, turning again to the others, “I don’t trust your judgement or decisions. Everyone out there is _angry_. Understandably so. And I somehow doubt anything the lot of you would find as a reasonable resolution will make it any better. I’ve heard all stories about how you’ve been managing things so far. I'm here to warn Alec, and whether he trusts you with the information or not is his business.”

 

Gabriel puffed with something of disbelief. “Is this what you two are doing in the future? Going around with valuable information, not minding the officials’-”

 

“The officials?” Lily interrupted briskly and scoffed, throwing Alec an incredulous, yet chastising look, “I am the leader of my clan. He’s been the Head of the New York Institute for the past 8 years or so.

“I’ve been involved in leading matters years before that - he, as well, I believe,” she added offhandedly.

 

“You never mentioned you’re actually _Head_ of your Institute,” Will looked past Lily, at Alec, eyes wide, as did the other two, other emotions mixing with the surprise on each of the faces at the news - emotions that he's too tired to catalogue individually.

 

“Not with those words, I guess?” was all Alec could say. He didn't really remember saying it with any words. But he couldn't see why and how it would've ever been relevant to them.

 

Lily shot him yet another incredulous look, “He’s also been proposed for Consulacy, just recently.”

 

"It's two more years until any decision on that," he retaliated, a bit irritated. This was even more irrelevant for anyone.  

 

"You're still the main candidate,” Lily insisted, as if not quite grasping why this wasn't general knowledge.

 

“You know, it's irrelevant,” Gabriel rubbed at his eyes and that might have been the only moment Alec had turned to him with an approving air. “Whatever fantastic accomplishments our visitor here is looking forward to,” and he did note a slightly vicious tone in the remark, “We really can’t waste too much time on any more trivial matters. We’ve got a possible uprising in the Downworld to deal with-”

 

 _Point_.

“-including the werewolf case.”

 

 _Fuck’s sake_.

 

“So it really doesn’t dawn on you that these two are connected?” Alec couldn't help it, an unhumorous thin stretch to his lips.

 

“It would be ridiculous if it revolved around the one incident.”

 

“Of course it doesn't-,” Alec stopped, realising his had been gradually raising his voice; took a step back, a breath of air, run a hand through his hair.

 

The others were very silent, he realised, watching _them_ , this breaking tension around them.

 

He looked at Gabriel as what he really was. A 20 years old running around with too much experience and too little knowledge to match. It dawned on him the number of years between them, both in life and work. And Will, and Gideon, probably, too. These three had never done much of diplomacy. They were soldiers. Alec remembered being mainly a soldier, too.

 

He looked back at Charlotte, her look knowing, strong, deliberating. She was something else, among the group. It was the first moment he realised who he had been looking at. Not just the youngest ever Consul, but the youngest person who was thought capable enough for the choice of Consul. And she was looking at him, waiting.

 

Will was further back, looking in between the two of them in particular.

 

“It’s not an incident,” Alec sighed, turning back to Gabriel thankfully calmer. “It’s a climax. I did take note of the last few events, myself. You’ve wiped out a whole vampire clan and they had nothing to say about it. A wide number of independent werewolves got thrown into your issues and died from exposure to dangerous drugs. They had no clan, but clans heard of them. The number of cases of unchecked violence against the Fae folk has been increasing due to the reopening of old wounds. People start connecting the dots and see you as a problem. You are the one constant throughout all of these tragedies happening in the Downworld and they are getting tired of keeping silent when it happens again.

 

“So what I'm saying is, no matter the closure of this case, you cannot afford to appear like you’re just applying justice indifferently and on a whim. Not again.”

 

“On a whim? _Again_? With the evidence before? With a confession now?”

 

“Well, yes, from the outside, it doesn’t look like you even cared much, does it? And that fact can be twisted further in the right hands. And those are plenty. Can anyone but the few present here assure them you at least tried to do the right thing? No. Most are dead. Remnants are  scorned. The rest is myth. And it's of a sour kind.”

 

“We cannot care about our reputation more than about justice,” Gabriel countered.

 

“No, you shouldn't. But when absolutely everyone else has doubts about your justice, you should start to wonder about your methods.

 

“There is a whole difference between solving and ending problems. A soldier ends problems. An executioner ends problems. You’ve been acting like soldiers and executioners. There’s an incident somewhere. You go out. You kill everyone involved as a way to solve the situation. You write a report. You call it a day. And dead men tell no tales and those who survive will talk only of death.

 

“If any of the offenders you deal with would talk about the good intentions behind their acts, you wouldn't mention it either. You just know they had to be stopped because of the casualties on the side.”

 

“Well put,” Lily said from the side, leaning against the wall, “but teaching these youngings work ethics won't get them out of the imminent danger. They’re too narrow,” she straightened herself up, gaining a definite glare from Gabriel, a perplexed look from Will, and a pensive glance from Charlotte.

 

Then she turned to Alec, “Do you have any experience in managing a situation of quite this caliber?”

 

Alec was mildly startled by the question, by the possible  implication of it, “Well, of course, the different environment and times would make it more-”

 

“He's been through a couple wars and various discords. He can manage,” Lily boldly came in between, leaning forward.

 

“Will-,” Charlotte turned to him, something softer in her face and voice, “would it be alright if, for the time being-”

 

“Of course,” Will answered a bit too quickly, something uneasy in him. “That's, um, only for the best. We could definitely fill in in the whole 'different environment and times issue’. Right, Gabriel?” he whirled around.

 

Gabriel’s face was stony, a nervous twitch in his mouth when he answered, “Of course.”

 

“I have to go back to Idris. And I need to have some reglementation in place before that. Otherwise, my duty would force me to agree to sending a team from there, to 'end the problem’ and I am personally aware, as you said, that it won't solve anything, but make things worse. But I need something concrete. How would proceed with this?”

 

“We reopen the investigation, first of all. But I can't propose a more concrete decision before I've gathered everything I need. I will send Charlotte the request in the morning. It's a reasonable request, given the circumstances. She decides how much she allows me; probably a week or so is what you can allow, I think?”

 

She nodded. “No more than a week.”

 

Will nodded gravely. Gabriel just looked on.

 

"So that's all you've got?" Gabriel inquired finally.

 

It’s all been too much right now. Too loud. The conversation had left him drained and dreading.

 

“We’re done. It's late right now. Everyone has been awake for too long. Lily, you need to go out before sunrise.We’re resuming it here. We’ll meet up in a few hours. Then, I will come up with a course of action and we'll discuss.”

 

"We will," Charlotte nodded, taking her leave. "I will stay for breakfast for the purpose. We'll leave you for now."

 

Will and Gabriel seemed to take the hint at ' _we_ ', following her.

 

Left alone, he turned back to Lily. “Do you remember anything about these times?”

 

“I am not that old, Alec,” Lily rolled her eyes. She looked rather tired, too. He wondered if she had slept much through the previous day.

 

“No, I mean…,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “If this escalated the way it does, heading towards a possible breach in the Accords, there should be records of it.”

 

“Maybe, Lily sighed. “Unless it doesn’t get that far,” she raised her hands to her sides, non-committing. “We miraculously stop it and it’s not worth mentioning. And I am not as versed in law and historical cases as you, all the same.”

 

“I am also versed in the knowledge that sometimes Shadowhunters keep anything that might not look well on them out of the official records.”

 

“Well that doesn’t help figuring out how that would come around, now does it?”

 

But really his greatest fear was that-

 

“What if it wasn’t supposed to happen at all? What if it’s somehow connected to the-”

 

“Doesn’t make sense unless we directly caused it,” Lily reassured him briskly. “Don’t you bother. The only cause of everything ever is Shadowhunters being incompetent dicks. As a Shadowhunter who’s rarely incompetent or a dick, you’re doing just fine.”

 

“High compliment,” Alec laughed weakly.

 

“My pleasure,” she smirked, giving him a kiss on the cheek, then starting to head out. “I’ll keep an eye on Camille. She’s gearing them up for a revolution. I know if nothing comes out of words, she’ll start acting up. Or combine the both. I’ll send word.”

 

***

 

He walked up the stairs, the exhaustion of his body failing to come to an agreement with the whirling in his head.

 

Totally unwelcome of a sight, Gabriel was there, waiting for him at the entrance into the Institute, a big bound volume in his hand.

 

“No more delays. Choose a damn name,” he threw the Shadowhunters Genealogy book at him.

 

Alec caught it, barely. He was not above admitting when Gabriel was in the right. He needed a name. He looked down at the book cover and said, “The… 9th in the list,” without opening it. “I’m here from America or some British colonies.” He threw the book back at him, which Gabriel caught easily.

 

“Colonies should be easier to cover,” Gabriel said neutrally, then turned and went the opposite way.

 

***

 

Walking more on autopilot than otherwise, Alec sneaked into the still quiet kitchen, found the door to the cellar and cut a generous piece from a well looking hanging smoked ham. He then went to the the drawing room, where Church slept, but remained alert enough to jump awake the moment sensed Alec’s presence. Alec wasn’t sure what Church was fed these days, but he’d bet on leftovers, mostly. While suspicious looking, he did regard the ham greedily at the first hint of its smell and pulled at it enthusiastically the moment it was within his fangs’ range. Once he had a good hold on it, he jumped off and run into the darker corner of the room and away from him, immediately gnawing at it.

 

“Thanks for earlier,” Alec said wearily, stifling a yawn. He wasn’t sure Church heard him or cared right then, though.

 

He half collapsed on the nearest armchair, a sudden bout of dizziness clouding his head. Breathing was heavy and a choking hazard in itself, once more. It was the second time since he’d arrived here and current events weren't helping - it was of a harsher kind, today, too. As if the sudden withdrawal from his anxiety medication wasn't risky on its own. He took one deep breath, and then another, trying to ignore the hectic buzzing in his head. The air fit tightly in his lungs, painful pangs tugging in the left side, like a chord wrung too tightly. He needed to concentrate on the present. He had to. But a blizzard of thoughts and memories and a stiffening pressure coating them all made it almost impossible. Every bit of his body felt like tingling. He could hear his own heart beat. It went fast.

 

Intrusive thoughts were diverse, as they always were. He may have been stuck here forever. He wasn't doing enough to go back home. He was selfish. He was failing people. His friends and family. He was failing himself. But he was also selfish here. He hadn't been doing enough to help the people here. He'd been ungrateful. Selfish. Only thinking of a way out for himself. However put, those surrounding him were too good for him. However put, he was not enough.

 

The whole Consulacy business was unfortunately on his mind again, too, and it was a sensitive matter. He hated the mental pressure this in particular put on him. The fear it put in him. It was a subject he felt people have been tying tightly around his neck, lately. _If you don't do it, you’d be letting someone worse do it. If you do it, we expect you to do it up to high standards._ Claps on shoulders. Arm touching. _It's going to be you. It's gonna be you. We expect it. We’re proud of you._

 

And here he was now. A life of a man in the game. The fate of a family. The fate of the whole Downworld. Lily scraping by in an unfamiliar place. Magnus out there, hurting before he even arrived. Hurting and confused even more through Alec. A world he had made a vow to protect. A friend in danger for being a collateral victim in something definitely meant for him alone. A man he had promised to stand by as long as he lived.

 

He didn't know what he could do. He didn't know if he could do something. Not that his head would even let him think at all.

 

“Hey.” He looked up to see Will sit down on the opposite seat, hands clasped before him.

 

This was not the best time for him to awkwardly keep someone company, when he couldn't even concentrate on himself, even less so on someone else. The person being Will, who he had accidentally got unofficially temporary suspended didn’t make it better. He would definitely make some excuses in due time. Luckily, claiming exhaustion wouldn't sound like pretending in his state.

 

"I am failing, am I not?” Will said all of a sudden.

 

“No, you aren't,” Alec knitted his brows, surprised, “You’re just tried by too much, too suddenly. You’ll be alright.”

 

“No, you are the one dealing with too much, too suddenly. You have your own problems here and we’re not making it easy for you to get that through, and today I just realized it never dawned on me that you also have your own issues at home, and now you took on this task as well, as messy as it is. And I am here overwhelmed and freaking out by just trying to do the job I'm supposed to do. How do you do it?”

 

Alec just blinked at him, dumbfounded, for a moment. It was a strange perspective, the way Will saw his lame situation. He wondered if Will would still regard him well at the end of this, at the conclusion of Alec’s tangled struggling in all this. “I supposed one just gets used to being overwhelmed,” he answered, finally.

 

“Sounds at least practical, although I doubt that's all it takes,” Will deflated into the cushioned chair with a sigh.

 

Toes loud on the floor, Church seems to have left his corner and jumped high on the couch, settling half into Alec’s lap.

 

Well, that put a dent in his escape plans. by all unwritten laws, it was an unspeakable crime to push a pet off your lap.

 

Will looked up at the unexpected sound. “How did you do _that_? He hates everyone!”

 

Alec didn't really have a good answer. “Pledged my soul. But I think he accepts nice treats, too. Just don't treat him like a cat.”

 

“OK?” Will said, looking confused, but as if he still considered the advice. Will was oggling at Church as if he might have found some greater clues out of it.

 

As if on cue, Church perked up, glared at Will and sat up and walked away fastidiously, as if he's just decided the company was not up to his standards, after all.

 

Alec smiled and sat up, feeling heavy with sleep, but emotionally lighter. The distraction had done him good, perhaps, channelling his attention into one unexpected train of thoughts.

 

“Have you thought about tomorrow? How we’re going to proceed?” Will sat up, too.

 

There was just one fact Alec knew for sure. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to take it back from the beginning.” It was not the best thing one could get to hear. That all of his work would be discounted.

 

Will just nodded in acknowledgement. “I suppose it's for the best. Goodnight, Alec.”

“Goodnight.”

 

“Anything urgent you need?”

 

Alec pondered on that. “A message. To Woolsey Scott. I need to know the earliest I can meet him.”

 

***

Magnus, portaled right at the base of the stairwell, started undoing his cravat as he climbed up. A flicker at the edge of his vision stopped him in his track. And he backed his steps slowly, looking sideways. There was a glimmer of light coming from the living room, through the thin line of space left in between door and floor. Well, wasn’t this one hell of a day?

 

He was definitely not willing to deal with this, but he had to. He walked toward the living room, pushed the door open without ceremony and walked in. Woolsey acknowledged him just with a glance, before looking back down at the fire, chin propped up by his hands, elbows planted in the space above his knees.

 

“I saw you are prepared to leave, but since your things weren't taken, I assumed you'd come back for the night,” he said, slowly, words drawn out.

 

“Yes,” Magnus sat down, too, with nothing else to say. This was an absolute mess, between the two of them, and Magnus should had never started it. None really wanted this, but they had both been alone and miserable and those are always dangerous things.

 

“Where to?” Woolsey asked with a strain in his voice. He had no feelings for Magnus, that was thankfully transparent, but their friendship would forever now come with a discomfort that should have never been there.

 

“I know a place to lodge at, for now,” Magnus replied sincerely. He really had no definite plans, just a realization that he had to pick himself up from this slump he’s been descending into.

 

“You don't really need to, you know. We’re still friends. I know you're only still in London because you're meddling again in some Shadowhunter business. Until that's done, and you do leave for The States as you planned to, you can stay here.”

 

“No, don't worry,” Magnus shook his head, not wanting to imply the obvious 'clean cut', “I think it's better this way.”

 

“Alright,” Woolsey answered simply, accepting Magnus’answer for what it was. Then they remained in silence - strangely, not an uncomfortable one.

 

A short while in, Magnus was just about to excuse himself to go to sleep, but that was the very moment the silence was broken, a hissing sound accompanying a flying piece of paper.

 

“They never get a break or give it to anyone, huh?” Woolsey picked it up, both knowing and expecting this would have to do with the Shadowhunters.

 

Magnus saw him raise his eyebrows, then bringing the close into a frown. “Management at the Institute changed again.”

 

“Will is no longer the Head?” Magnus sat back.

 

“No.”

 

“Then who did they bring in?”

 

“No one. It's our recent mutual acquaintance. And, look,” Woolsey turned the paper to him, “he has a last name now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a thought: if you do like Gabriel as a character (because I, for one, do) I want you to know I’m not making him an annoying shit for nothing, but all in due time. On the same note, all perspectives on all characters are through Alec and Magnus’ eyes so in relation to all other characters involved, do note that you see the things as they see them and that's it.
> 
> It only took me so much to post this because I wasn't happy with it. Still am not, but damn...  
> The final chapter plan is sketched, so you may see the chapter number is now finite: 17+Epilogue.
> 
> Following:
> 
> 13\. Loose Alibi  
> 14\. Ghosts remember many things  
> 15\. Tales told by lamplight  
> 16\. Non ducor, duco  
> 17\. Fell far from the tree  
> 18\. Epilogue: I know him well


End file.
